


Skype Poetry

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 193,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3820900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Winter High. Over winter break, meeting up in Tokyo for a street ball game seems at least…marginally normal. The problem? Half a dozen friendships broken in half a dozen different ways equals a whole lot of jumbled emotions, especially regarding one Akashi Seijuurou. Kagami Taiga, as per usual, remains unfazed.</p><p>In which Akashi finds himself as the moth to a flame for a change…and it's surprisingly not so bad. One-offs can turn into some pretty intense things, who knew?</p><p>Mentions of Mibuchi/Akashi, Kagami/Kuroko, and a few other very brief relationship things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Hmmm....yeah, I’ll take Tetsu.”

 

Kagami’s heart sinks. He stares at the long flat plane of Aomine’s outstretched hand, and the clenched fist of his own in disappointment. “You cheated,” he mutters.

 

“You _always_ throw rock, dipshit. Anyway, I’m with Tetsu.” Aomine looks up, and smirks, tossing Kuroko a black t-shirt with the sleeves cut out. “Looks like you’re white team with...yeah, have fun.”

 

The other team is already assembled, Team Purple consisting of Murasakibara, Himuro, and Takao, vocally complaining that having one miracle for their entire team is entirely unfair given the circumstances. On his own team, Midorima pushes up his glasses, looking absolutely certain that he’s going to catch a communicable disease from the t-shirt over his own clothes. “Kagami. I hope you’ve improved, or this will be embarrassing.”

 

“It’s always embarrassing when I have to stand next to you,” Kagami shoots back, and hesitates about what to say next. He settles for awkwardly jerking his chin at their third member. “Hey.” What the hell do you say to the guy that tried to stab you in the face that you later beat for the first time in his life?

 

Akashi blinks up at him with a pair of notably matched eyes, impassive. "Hello. This should be an easy victory." 

 

Admittedly, a day of street ball minus his own, current team is not Akashi's ideal. Being Rakuzan's only representative puts a hefty amount of pressure on his shoulders, but that's fine. Being obviously no one's pick…………..less fine. He is not insulted. He is just annoyed. 

 

"We're going to win! This is going to be _awesome_ , playing with my two favorite people--"

 

"Kise-kun, please lower your voice if you're going to shout right into my ear," Kuroko levelly says, but there's a marked twitch to one of his eyes. 

 

Akashi sighs. At least he isn't on a team with _that_. "Shintarou," he mildly says, ignoring Kagami for the time being, "you're a better center than this one. I'll pass to you as needed, but expect that to be your main task. Sorry." 

 

Takao keeps sending furtive, worried little glances in Midorima's direction, and that's also annoying. Today is going to be one of those days, Akashi can _tell_. 

 

“Uh, I have a name,” Kagami says, stepping forward to make full use of his height--not that that had worked very well the last time he’d tried it on Akashi, but something in his nature compels him to at least try. “It’s not _this one_. Let him shoot, I’ll be your damn center.”

 

“We’re not even playing yet, you know,” Midorima says with a sniff. “Akashi won the throw with the other captains. We’ll be playing the winner, obviously.” _Which will be Kuroko’s team, unfortunately. Sorry, Takao._ He sends a brief shrug over, as if to demonstrate his own inability to go against fate.

 

Takao's own shoulders heave, and he _tries_ to make sense of the hot mess that is Murasakibara, eating chips and ignoring every suggestion, and Himuro, feeding him more and simultaneously sulking about the lack of luck in his draw.

 

"When you face off against Daiki," Akashi says _patiently_ , "you'll be of no use as a center, because that's your nature, Kagami Taiga." Every single syllable gets an emphasis, as if to say _I obviously know your name and you can calm down now._ "Shintarou can actually fight him at the net. You can stop practically standing on your tiptoes now, I know how tall you are and Shintarou is taller and I literally don't care." Definitely one of those days.

 

“‘M not on my tiptoes,” Kagami mutters, yanking at the neck of his t-shirt in annoyance. “What the hell do you want me to do if not center? We need a guard, a center, and a shooter--and I’m not gonna be the shooter.” Is that the plan? To have him embarrass himself? Akashi can think the hell again.

 

“Just let him control the movements of the game, fool,” Midorima snaps tiredly. “Haven’t you had enough of fighting Aomine at the net?”

 

“Not by a long shot!” Kagami shoots a glare over at Aomine, currently occupied indodging Kuroko’s defenses against having his hair ruffled. Asshole.

 

"Fine. A chance to dunk atop Daiki's head, yet again. That is what I'm offering you, because that is what I know you'll do no matter what," Akashi wearily says, and spares an idle glance in the same direction as Kagami. 

 

"Aomine-kun, please refrain from giving me daytime bedhead."

 

Ah.

 

Akashi glances back to Midorima, eyebrows raised. _Again? Already?_

 

Midorima blinks in what he hopes looks like comprehension. _Don’t worry,_ he hopes he’s saying back. _He won’t._ How like Akashi, to be concerned that Kagami would forget his allegiance to their team just because he wasn’t one of them before. At least, he _thinks_ that’s what Akashi is saying.

 

“Muro-chin, I’m out of chips.”

 

Kagami lets out a bark of laughter, cracking the knuckles in his hands as he stretches out. “Hear that, Aomine? You’d better win the first round, I’m coming for you. Kuroko, gimme all you’ve got, okay?”

 

Surrounded by idiots. That is what he's dealing with. Akashi concludes this not only because of Midorima, but as he watches, sullenly, while Himuro is unable to produce more chips for the time being, and Takao sweats bullets just _looking_ at Kuroko's team arrangement. 

 

Kuroko, who is notably fastened to Aomine's hip, and spares Kagami something of a nod before turning his attention back to Aomine-- _not_ Kise, who is blabbering on about who knows what. Just Aomine. 

 

Akashi briefly shuts his eyes, and settles for turning away to take a seat on the nearest bench, awaiting the results. 

 

The word “massacre” might be a little too brutal, but only just. Kagami winces as he watches Aomine, Kise, and Kuroko blur around the court like darting fireflies that occasionally launch themselves towards the net. Murasakibara blocks a ridiculous amount of shots, but his size and speed are less of an advantage than they usually would be in such a situation, stymied by the strong outside shooting percentage and agility of the other team. Takao’s plays are less than effective when one of his teammates forgets half of them, and the other pays attention to the ones he thinks are best, and Kagami can almost hear Shuutoku’s point guard trying not to rip out his hair. 

 

In the end, the point difference only grows, and Kagami gives Himuro a consoling shrug that the other man ignores when he stalks off the court. “Sorry about it,” he says under his breath, without being too sorry. At least now, he’ll get to face Aomine again, even if it is with Akashi. “Don’t think I’ll hold back, Kuroko,” he throws out with a grin. Kuroko _does_ look nice when he’s all sweaty.

 

Kuroko pulls up his t-shirt to wipe at his face, and blinks up at Kagami with a nod. "I wouldn't expect you to, Kagami-kun. Ah. I wanted to tell you. Aomine-kun invited me to his house after this."

 

 _Confirmed,_ Akashi thinks as he overhears that, barely repressing the urge to sigh again, and he starts to lean over to Midorima and say _this is what I was talking about, how did you miss it_ when Takao bounds over, nothing but huffy frustration. 

 

"Shin-chan! You have to at least win this time for me, otherwise it's not fair! There's nothing fair about this, but win for me, be my knight in shining armor--"

 

“Shut up, Takao!”

 

Kagami raises his eyebrows, then shrugs. “Aomine’s house, huh? What are we gonna...”

 

 _Fuck. Too late._ Too late, his brain catches up to his mouth, and he realizes that Kuroko had said me instead of us. “You know,” he says to Aomine, folding his arms across his chest, “when someone shows up with someone, you should invite both of them over or none.”

 

“Is that America’s version of polite?” Aomine drawls, slinging an arm around Kuroko’s shoulders. “Pass. I don’t want you stinking up my place.”

 

Something hot and uncomfortable flares in Kagami’s chest, even if he can’t name it, or why this is bothering him so much. He turns to the side instead, distracting himself with the way Midorima is blushing a deeper red than Akashi’s hair. “Whatever. We’ll just crush you first.”

 

"Aomine-kun, you're very heavy when you lean on me like that." 

 

"Shin-chaaaan, come on, promise me you'll avenge me!"

 

Akashi probably shouldn't be so grateful that he isn't the only one here experiencing a hefty amount of frustrating rejection and dismissal. Midorima, ignoring him for that barely decent excuse of a point guard--Murasakibara, distracted with Himuro, who has apparently stopped sulking long enough to grab more chips and feed him--Aomine and Kuroko and Kise, forever a unit, or so Kise thinks, but at least he can _pretend_ to be included--

 

Well. Fine, then.

 

"It's fine, Tetsuya. If you're entertaining Daiki, then I'll take care of Taiga in the meantime."

 

Kuroko's expression immediately turns wary, and Akashi takes that as sweet vindication. Now feeling quite smug and satisfied about it, he rises from where he sits, crooking a finger towards Kagami. "Let's go. Shintarou, you, too, leave your pet behind."

 

Takao's mouth drops open. "I'm not--you-- _ugh_ , Shin-chan!!!"

 

“I can hardly avenge you against my own teammate,” Midorima points out, following Akashi onto the court with the ease of long, long practice. 

 

Kagami follows him, not entirely sure what’s just passed between Kuroko and Akashi, knowing he’s the center of it and sort of uncertain about what that means. Either way, he settles between his teammates, facing Aomine across from the ball, held by Takao. “You really think you can out-jump me?” he challenges, heat blooming inside him for the fight.

 

"Ahahah, just remember, this is a fun game. For fun!" Takao _cheerfully_ butts in before anyone can say otherwise. He is definitely twitching, annoyed, and not happy about being already kicked out of the running, but maybe, just maybe, Shin-chan will win on his behalf--even if it's just _for fun._

 

Kuroko's eyes catch Akashi's for a brief moment, just as wary as before. _Can you please not_ is the stare that Kuroko hopes is getting through to his previous captain, but Akashi looks away, uninterested and unconcerned, and his focus is on the ball the second that it's in the air. 

 

Of all the people to get the ball first, it's Akashi, battle of heights be damned. "They don't need to have their hands on the ball," he calmly says, and briefly catches Kagami's gaze. "Ever. Let's win this quickly, shall we?" 

 

_Shit, that’s hot._

 

Kagami’s breath falters for a second, and he has to remind his lungs to keep working, dammit. For the first time, for that brief moment, he’d understood what it must have been like to have Akashi as a captain, to follow his orders, to follow him into battle. It isn’t difficult to see why even forces to be reckoned with like Aomine and Midorima fall into step behind him even now.

 

Aomine is a black-and-brown blur in front of him, and Kagami jumps without thinking, reacting to a lightning-fast pass from Akashi to dunk in the next heartbeat. His blood surges, and he hits the ground with a shout of victory, only barely stopping himself from ripping off his shirt in a fit of testosterone. “Nine more, nine more,” he calls, giving Midorima a nod that is warily returned.

 

"Kurokocchi, pass to me this time!"

 

"Considering I don't even have the _ball_ , Kise-kun--"

 

"I'm just saying, when you get it--"

 

 _Very talkative_ , Akashi thinks, and knows that speaks of insecurity more than anything. Kuroko is a mix flustered and unsure, and it's obvious. Hm. Who knew that would be such an easy thing to have happen. 

 

At any rate, he's tired of listening to Kise chatter as well as get in his way. The ball ends up back in his hands in short order, and he avoids Kise's attempt to steal it with a swift pass behind his back, directly into Kagami's hands again. Akashi would be lying if he didn't think it was enjoyable to see how surprised Kagami seems every single time that it's so _easy_. That's how it should be, obviously. 

 

Akashi’s passes don’t have the blistering force that Kuroko’s do. What they do have is absolute precision, to the degree that Kagami is pretty sure that if he didn’t catch them, they’d fall to the ground at his feet, not an ounce of wasted energy. It had been terrifying to play against. Like this, it’s just exciting to play with. 

 

He sees a chance, and sees Kise and Aomine in front of him, an unbeatable wall. Instead, he darts the ball back to Akashi, and half a second later, one of Midorima’s threes sails through the net with absolute efficiency. 

 

It might be cool to be part of such a dominating threesome, but Kagami would be lying if he said the hairs on the back of his neck weren’t standing on end from it.

 

Kuroko dives for the ball as it falls from the net, but it's slapped back into Akashi's palm with startlingly efficiency. Kuroko's lips purse. "Sorry," he calls to Aomine and Kise alike, the latter of which just smiles, a hand fluttering, and the former… "Aomine-kun, I'll get it to you next--"

 

Kuroko does _not_ like suddenly being on the ground with Akashi passing him by. The shock of that never stops being _awful,_ nor does it make it easier to scramble to his feet, just in time to see Akashi deliver a fluid layup right over him. "…time," he grouses, reminding himself that this is just a fun game, and not another competition that he _needs_ to win in order to prove a point. 

 

Aomine reaches down a hand, grasping Kuroko’s forearm to pull him to his feet. “We didn’t expect anything fucking different,” he says with a shrug, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I just don’t want to let that idiot dunk over me. Kisee, steal the damn ball already.”

 

The thrill of the game is getting to Kagami, and there’s a spring in his step there, making him dive and bound after the ball with every dribble. Kise swipes the ball from him, but Akashi is _there_ , with a speed and efficiency that’s even more impressive from this side of the court. 

 

6-3, and Kagami cracks his neck, shooting Kuroko a grin. “You’re making me work for it, huh?”

 

Kuroko is still frowning. "I think you're enjoying yourself too much, Kagami-kun," he bluntly says, just in time to watch another three from Midorima to be delivered to the net. 

 

"Uggggh, Akashicchi! Come on, please, I want to at least make one shot!"

 

"You shouldn't be begging your opponent for a chance to have the ball," Akashi admonishes.

 

Kise pouts. "You're not _really_ my opponent, you're my friend!"

 

Akashi stares at him, and calmly passes the ball back to Kagami. "Anyway."

 

Aomine _does_ manage to knock Kagami on his ass during the next layup, enough that Kagami gets to his feet cursing, calling, “That’s definitely a foul!”

 

“It’s _street ball_ ,” Aomine says in disbelief, tossing a formless shot into the net. 

 

“You fucking pushed me!”

 

Aomine shrugs. “You were in my way. Yo, Tetsu.” He passes the ball, then launches himself back towards the basket, trailing a newly-furious Kagami.

 

Kuroko's subsequent pass to Kise is interrupted courtesy of Akashi, and Kise fumes, just shy of stomping a foot. "Why? Why is it always me? Akashicchiiiiii--"

 

"I'm really not sure why you're whining at me, this _is_ an actual competition," Akashi mildly says, and his next pass is tossed seamlessly to Midorima before he reaches out to tap Kagami's elbow. "Taiga. Keep a cool head, Daiki is simply being himself. In a word: annoying."

 

Kagami yanks up the hem of his borrowed tee, using it to wipe the sweat from his face, exposing his belly before letting it drop again. “Yeah.” He nods to Akashi, and god, it’s strange to feel like it’s so easy to be this guy’s teammate. “I won’t let him get to me.” _Just have to be better._ It’s a little disconcerting that Kuroko won’t look at him, but...

 

No, that makes sense. Kuroko, Kagami knows, is clever. He’d absolutely pretend like there was something going on with him and Aomine just to win a street ball competition, especially one against Akashi and Midorima. _Fine, Kuroko. If you want to play that game, I’ll play._

 

It’s with a much cooler head that Kagami blocks Kise’s next pass, tossing back over his shoulder to Midorima’s next three.

 

“You _know_ we’re playing by shots,” Aomine calls, “not by points, right? You’re just making it harder on yourself, Midorima!”

 

“Perfect form need not be sacrificed just because you’re afraid of my power,” Midorima says loftily. “This is match point for us.”

 

"I haven't gotten to have a single one of Kurokocchi's passes, that's the whole _point_ of this--"

 

"It's not, really," Kuroko wearily says, wiping sweat from his brow. "Aomine-kun," he quietly, but firmly adds, grabbing the back of the other boy's shirt, "I don't care if we expected this, I still want to win so that it's less clear that Akashi-kun is stealing Kagami-kun from my clutches."

 

“Tetsu,” Aomine says wearily, with a squeeze to Kuroko’s shoulder, “it’s a little late to be possessive after your little announcement, huh? I’m going, I’m going, pass to Kisee before he pisses himself.” 

 

He steals the ball nearly out of Midorima’s hands, makes a halfhearted attempt to pass to Kise, then ignores it, going for a dunk himself with a very satisfying slam. 

 

At least, that was the _plan_. It’s always hard to plan for the ridiculous airtime that Kagami wrings out of every jump, like he’s launching off a trampoline or something. They wind up face to face, one hand on either side of the ball, snarling and yelling at each other before the ball goes flying wildly, and they both hit the ground panting, already running after it.

 

 _Just because I'm going home with you doesn't mean someone else gets him instead_ is what Kuroko wants to say, but admittedly, everyone is a little too distracted--himself included--for that to have the effect he'd like it to. 

 

It's Akashi, of course, who gets the rebound against all height-logic. Kuroko dives for it as well, and Akashi sidesteps him easily, complete with enough time to pass to Midorima--who waits, knowing this play, to pass it back to Akashi the second Kise jumps for a chance to steal. 

 

"Taiga," Akashi calls, dribbling for a split second before the ball arrives right in front of Kagami. "Get the last point!" 

 

The scream Kagami lets out lasts the entire time he’s in the air--no small feat, for as long as he stays up there, ball firm in his hand, backed by all the power of his muscles. Even Aomine can’t fight him like this, he thinks wildly on the way from the free throw line, until he dunks with the most satisfying sound he’s heard in a long time...

 

...Until the hoop creaks, then breaks off in his hand.

 

Oops.

 

Kagami grimaces, then looks around. “Should we...tell someone?”

 

Aomine snorts. “I’m not sticking around. Let’s go, Tetsu.”

 

“Muro-chin, you’re gonna take me out to eat, right?”

 

“Takao, you’ve been avenged.”

 

"Shin-chan, my hero!"

 

"Yes, yes, Atsushi, let's go."

 

"…Aomine-kun, you're setting a bad example for everyone," Kuroko sighs, shedding his extra t-shirt and latching onto Aomine's elbow in spite of his complaints. "If you want to be redeemed, you'll get me a vanilla shake before we go home."

 

"I'll take you out for a shake, Kurokocchi--"

 

"You're not invited, Kise-kun."

 

Confirmed again. Aomine and Kuroko are definitely _doing that thing_ that they do, and Akashi finds it eye roll worthy. He tugs of his own t-shirt, wiping his face with it, and exhales a long sigh. It had been one thing to tease Kuroko a bit and gently encourage such behavior from Kagami, but to proceed from here… 

 

"Kagami-kun." Kuroko stares up at Kagami, all wide blue eyes. " _Be careful._ "

 

“You’re really going home with him.” Kagami probably shouldn’t be as surprised as he is, but in his defense, this isn’t something he’d been prepared for. He steals a look at Aomine, currently guzzling a bottle of water before tossing it neatly into a nearby recycling can. “You’re...I’m overthinking this, right?” He grins, inviting Kuroko to laugh at him too. “You’re just going to catch up or something, right?”

 

Kuroko's brow furrows. "Well, yes. We are going to catch up. But we're also going to do what you're probably thinking."

 

"Kurokocchi," is Kise's hiss right behind him. "Don't be so _blunt_."

 

"I'm not sure why I shouldn't be, Kagami-kun is asking." 

 

Kise's gaze is wary, and he glances between the two of them before holding his hands up in surrender. "I have no idea what the parameters are anymore here, so I'm gonna give up while I'm ahead."

 

"Kise-kun, you were never ahead."

 

"So mean!" 

 

Kagami grabs Kuroko’s shoulder, brow furrowed as he leans in close. He tries not to notice the fact that Aomine is _definitely_ smirking at them, while Kise looks more sorry for him. Great, he’s being pitied by Kise Ryouta. That’s not exactly a win for the day. “Did I miss something? I thought we were...I mean, you usually tell someone when you break up with them.”

 

Kuroko blinks back at him, slow and calm. "I'm not breaking up with you, Kagami-kun." 

 

“Oh.” Does that make it more confusing, or less? More, Kagami decides. Definitely more. “Uh, okay. Then...” But he’s obviously still...

 

“Tetsu, hurry up,” Aomine calls, scratching at the back of his neck. “Your shake’s gonna melt before we get to my house anyway, and my mom’s only gone until nine.”

 

Kuroko ducks out from underneath Kagami's hand, but not before lurching up to place a quick kiss to his mouth. A number of heads are turned, anyway, and even if they weren't, they're clearly among those that simply don't care. "I'm going home with him and we're going to have sex," he bluntly explains further, because he's not sure if Kagami is getting it or not. "Because I like both of you. That's all. Later, Kagami-kun. Please be careful and do not let Akashi-kun have his way with you. I can tell you think he's hot." 

 

With that, he turns away, jogging after Aomine, and Kise offers Kagami a wary smile. "Uh…Kurokocchi's a little…weird, isn't he? Haha…"

 

Kagami runs a hand back through his hair, mystified and a little hurt, staring after the two as Aomine unmistakably slings an arm low around Kuroko’s waist. “I mean...I’m not an idiot,” he says warily. “I knew they had a thing. Before. I didn’t know they... _have_ a thing, present tense. Did you?”

 

Midorima takes this opportunity to grab his bag. “Let’s go, Takao. I don’t want to be privy to the destruction of Kagami Taiga’s irresponsible love life.”

 

Takao mouths the words _sorry about it!_ before slinging his own bag over his shoulder. "Ah, yeah, let's just go out to eat, Shin-chan, my hero--"

 

"I might as well get going…umm…good luck, Kagamicchi," Kise unhelpfully offers, already flipping open his cellphone and backing away from the impending doom that is Akashi Seijuurou calmly pointing out:

 

"It's a newly reestablished thing. I just noticed it today, too." 

 

Akashi tucks his water bottle back into his bag and tilts his head back to look up at Kagami more efficiently. "I'm not surprised Tetsuya said nothing. He tends to be like that." 

 

It’s probably not good for Kagami to admit that he’d forgotten Akashi was there until this exact moment. It’s so easy to hang out with Kise, Midorima, even Murasakibara and Aomine--but this is the last frontier, the one that Kuroko was supposedly friends with, but that Kagami couldn’t understand. He chews on his lip, then strips off the team tee, tossing it with the rest of them. “I always felt like everyone was laughing at me for thinking we could have a thing,” he admits, not sure why he’s opening up to Akashi except that he’s the only one that hasn’t run away. “You all knew about them in Junior High, right?”

 

Akashi nods as he takes a seat next to his own bag again, ankles neatly crossed. "They were not subtle. Comparatively, this incident is rather covert." He pauses, thinking. "I wouldn't say that anyone was laughing at you regarding having 'a thing'--more than that, the idea of it being somewhat exclusive is probably undeniably entertaining. Tetsuya functions by his own rules, typically."

 

“That would have been good to know before we...fuck, it just would have been good to hear it from him up front.” Kagami snorts, laughing at himself. “I guess for him this _is_ telling me up front. At least he told me.” 

 

He sighs, flopping down to the bench to grab a towel out of his bag. “You all think I’m a real gate-crasher, huh?”

 

Akashi blinks at the term, and his head tilts to the side as he considers it. "…That's a word for it. I can't speak for everyone else, but at the time, I found you infuriating. Now, I suppose I should be grateful to you." 

 

“I didn’t come to Japan to fix a bunch of beat-up friendships,” Kagami says idly. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at the pavement. “Even if that’s what happened, I guess. I just came to play basketball. Then all of a sudden it’s all this weird shit, and all these alliances and betrayals and _history_ , and you have to hear a five-hour story before every game or it won’t make sense when your teammate looks like he wants to cry because the other team’s power forward dunks over his head...”

 

"Mm." Akashi pauses. "How did Reo put it. Right. Tetsuya was using you to make sure that he won the break-up. I think that's the term." His expression shifts wry. "I'm not sure if this will make you feel better or worse, but I don't think you repaired a bunch of beat-up friendships, as you put it. Mostly, we all begrudgingly talk to one another again, because that's the nice thing to do, and you therefore made it much easier for those two to go back to Aomine's apartment together again."

 

“Fucking great,” Kagami grunts. “Way to go, Kagami Taiga. I mean, he _told_ me he was using me to get back at Aomine. And all of you, I guess, but I always got the feeling...it was mostly him.” 

 

He lets out a harsh breath, standing up before his joints get too stiff. “I shouldn’t be bitching to you about this, of all people.”

 

"I don't care." Akashi's shoulders heave in a light shrug. "You are right, of course. This was mostly all about Daiki. For what it's worth, I am still grateful to you, as an individual, not to Tetsuya and his machinations. There isn't any way that he or his team would have been able to defeat Rakuzan without you, and as much as I am loathe to admit it…that was a wakeup call I sorely needed." 

 

He absently rubs a hand over his left eye, half-expecting it to turn golden every single time he thinks about it. "At any rate. I recommend not taking Tetsuya's indiscretions personally. He clearly favors both of you." 

 

Kagami still isn’t entirely sure he’s comfortable with looking Akashi in the eyes. Still... “You’re not stabbing me anymore, so I guess it’s progress or something. That’s good, I guess.” He turns and looks after where Kuroko and Aomine disappeared, and shoulders his bag. “He’ll come back if he wants to. I guess I should take it as a compliment that he thinks I’d be cool with something like that. It’s either that or think he thinks I’m so lame I’d stick around no matter what, even if it’s just for Aomine’s leftovers.”

 

"Ah. That. I should apologize properly." Akashi frowns, rising from his own seat and picking up his bag. "You're not very Japanese," he notes bluntly. "Perhaps Tetsuya is facing the same issue I am right now. Maybe he thinks that you're enough of a foreigner that you'll be very accepting of his strange choices. Anyway, the point stands--I would apologize properly, but I'm not entirely sure if a bow of that sort would be wasted on you or not? If you don't know the difference, I don't terribly favor being on the ground, so I'll just stick with a verbal apology." 

 

Kagami’s head tilts to the side. “For--oh, the scissors thing? Forget it.” He shrugs. “I dodged.” That’s that, as far as he’d been concerned then and as far as he’s concerned now. _Huh. Maybe that’s why Kuroko thinks I’d be cool with him fucking other guys? Because I don’t stress about shit like that? Whatever._ Kagami is feeling increasingly _over_ the stress of wondering about Kuroko’s love life that doesn’t involve him, especially since thinking about him and Aomine together is ridiculously hot.

 

"You did," Akashi agrees, staring up at him. "But I still cut you. Bend down." There's a calm confidence to the words, as if he very much expects the order to be obeyed. With a golden eye or not, that is nothing new.

 

“Uh...” Kagami eyes Akashi warily. Just because he’s supposedly ‘back to his old self,’ as Kise puts it, that doesn’t mean Kagami would put it past him to decide he needs a matching scar on his left cheek. Hesitantly, he bends at the waist, in a Japanese bow that needs a lot of work.

 

Akashi nods to himself in approval, and reaches up, his thumb grazing over the thin line of a scar that's much easier to examine now that Kagami is leaning close. "For this," he quietly says, "I do apologize. Defeating my opponents is one thing--harming them another."

 

Kagami’s pulse thuds. “ _I can tell you think he’s hot_ ,” Kuroko says in his memory, and Kagami tries to pretend that isn’t true, the same way he tries to pretend his skin doesn’t prickle and tingle where Akashi had touched him. “Like I said,” he mutters, throat dry, “it’s no big deal. Not like I’ve never been attacked before or anything.”

 

"That doesn't make it acceptable." Akashi exhales a soft breath of frustration, and he finally shrugs, giving into temptation. Well, what else is there to do? No one else is interested in hearing his apologies, or spending time with him, or they all have their own prior obligations even when he is in Tokyo, so he might as well make the best of it. "I heard what Tetsuya said. You can tell him that I 'had my way with you', if it makes you feel better about this," he says before closing the gap between them with a tilt of his head and a firm, insistent kiss.

 

This is the second time in recent memory that Kagami has been surprised by someone several inches shorter than him with a kiss. This does _not_ feel like the last time.

 

That had been soft, surprising in that he hadn’t thought it would happen right _then_ , subtly flavored with vanilla milkshake, rewarding like a long soak in the tub after a run in the cold.

 

This is different.

 

This is warming up so fast his skin feels like it’s full of pins and needles. This is electrifying, startling, far more invigorating than a simple kiss should be, and Kagami feels himself sit down hard on the bench. _Emperor Eye?_ he thinks wildly--but no, it’s just the way Akashi is, apparently. He clears his throat, then says, surprising himself, “If I’m gonna tell him that...you better really do it.”

 

Belatedly, Akashi realizes that here, on a public court, is probably not the best place to start anything remotely like this. He rocks back onto his heels, licking at his lower lip. "All right," he says, only briefly thinking about Kuroko's sulking later before deciding he cares little. Honestly, this one he really did bring upon himself. He shifts, hiking his bag back onto his shoulder properly. "I can do that. The more I consider it, the more you resemble my type. You live close by, don't you?" 

 

“Y-yeah.” Kagami stands, adjusting himself in what he hopes is a really discreet motion, accommodating for the fact that Akashi is fucking stunning up close, and currently (apparently) interested in doing all kinds of things to him. At the moment, Kagami’s lust-filled brain can’t think of any that he wouldn’t agree to. “Three blocks this way, we don’t even need to take a train.”

 

He sets off without thinking, going his own pace that will get him there in less than five minutes. Belatedly, he looks back to wait and catch up, only to find that Akashi is keeping up with him easily. _Awesome_.

 

They walk in silence for a moment before Kagami works up the courage to ask. “Was this kind of thing normal back then? You guys...switching? Swapping, whatever?”

 

"No." Akashi shrugs as he briefly checks the time in his phone before tucking it away again. "Daiki and Tetsuya were always together. Ryouta wanted to be a part of it, but was ignored. Shintarou and I are incompatible, but still close. Atsushi and I were closer. But he's…" His lips purse. "Busy, as well, it seems. And understandably doesn't favor me." 

 

“Huh. Okay.” There go his shameful orgy fantasies, Kagami supposes. At least it’s a quick walk, which is all to the good when Akashi Seijuurou, Captain of the Generation of Miracles, is at his side casually recounting their love lives. 

 

He nods at a building, and pulls out his key. “This is me.” _And what the hell am I supposed to do with you now? Apologize that this isn’t a mansion?_

 

Akashi glances upward, evaluating the building. "I don't know why I'm surprised. After hearing how many frequent trips you took back to America, I should have expected something as nice as this. Do you live alone?" If so, how utterly convenient…and how envious he is. He sighs.

 

“Huh? Uh, yeah. My dad’s in America most of the time. All the time, lately.” Kagami gets them inside, mentally relieved that Akashi hasn’t decided to throw some weird kind of class warfare--which he’d kind of expected. “Heh, I guess Kuroko was exaggerating. He always made it sound like you were some kind of royalty with castles and land and horses and shit,” he says with a grin, opening the door to his apartment and throwing his bag on the nearest chair.

 

Akashi pulls the door shut behind him, toeing off his shoes in short order. "He wasn't exaggerating," he mildly says. "I just know what a nice apartment complex looks like as well. My father owns a sizable number of them." 

 

“....Ah.”

 

 _That_ kind of makes Kagami wish he’d straightened up the place first. Whatever, they’re here now, and Akashi isn’t being a dick about it, which is nice. “Fair warning, I have no idea who you are. I forgot Japan even _had_ an Emperor until history class like, last month.”

 

Briefly, a mix of wry amusement and weariness flickers over Akashi's face. "I really don't care," he offers up, tossing his bag down onto the chair next to Kagami's. "It's more important to me that I'm not talking about it right now." 

 

Kagami is about the average amount of tall that Akashi is used to, so that's good. That makes it rather easy to simply grab the front of Kagami's shirt and haul him down to an acceptable height for kissing. "You'll have bragging rights after this, though," he casually says, and lurches up the last inch to catch Kagami's lower lip in his teeth before kissing him full on the mouth again. "I'm picky." 

 

Kagami lets out something like a grunt before his knee hits an ottoman, leaving him kneeling on the furniture to keep his back from aching. The most important thing is that Akashi doesn’t stop kissing him, and Kagami could hate that a hell of a lot more.

 

He leans into the bite to his lip, then lets his hands drift up, pressing against Akashi’s back and starting to slide down. It’s not like he has a _lot_ of experience in fucking men, but that’s different than having _none_. “I’m pretty picky too,” he murmurs, flicking out his tongue over Akashi’s lip.

 

"Good." 

 

Shoving Kagami forward and properly into a chair is a stark reminder of what a good idea this was. Kuroko will dislike him more, will sulk and fume and glare at him at every opportunity, but Akashi _does_ note that he cares little for that, especially when Kagami's hands are satisfyingly bold enough that he has no qualms about simply climbing right into his lap. His hands drag back through the mess of Kagami's hair, and he kisses him harder, far from gentle, not when he doesn't _have_ to be. 

 

Ah. That’s definitely different from what Kagami is entirely sure are his few, fumbling experiences with sex compared to what Akashi’s had. This control speaks of practice, and Kagami is nothing if not willing to learn. 

 

His back hits the back of the chair, and he slides into it easily, grabbing at Akashi and pulling him close, head tipping back to give Akashi a better angle to kiss him, more places to touch him. “You don’t--I’m strong, I’m not going to break,” he hears himself saying, and isn’t quite sure where the words are coming from, or why he’s saying something like that.

 

Akashi briefly pauses with those words, startled surprise reflecting clearly across his face as he sits back onto Kagami's thighs for a moment, his hands sliding down to the other boy's shoulders. "…That's my line," he says suspiciously, fairly certain this is a trap. "I know you aren't going to break, I've looked at you."

 

Kagami frowns, hands sliding down to Akashi’s hips to squeeze slightly. “Why would that be your line?” he counters. “Anyone can see _you’re_ not going to break. I only meant--”

 

He shakes his head, rattled. “I dunno what I was thinking about. Forget it.”

 

"You'd be surprised what people think." Akashi's head cocks, clearly evaluating further before he leans forward again, kissing Kagami again before his mouth drags down to the side of his neck, unable to stop himself from biting. It's a guilty pleasure, and one that allows him to show off what he's done later, which he just _can't_ resist. "You've done this all with Tetsuya before, haven't you?" he presses breathlessly. "What else?" 

 

Kagami sucks in a hard breath, back arching at the bite to his neck as his cock suddenly throbs, the hot wet flare of pain shooting through his spine to pool low in his belly. “Ah...this,” he says, trying to put his thoughts together. “We--I mean, we--”

 

 _Fuck? Make love?_ Is there a way to say it that doesn’t sound either maudlin or way too crude? “We’ve had sex,” he tries. “Is that what you’re asking?”

 

"Mmm. Specifics? Or is that too personal?" How can anything be too personal when he's already in Kagami's lap, _honestly_ , but some people are like that. Akashi wriggles forward all the same, a hand sliding down low between Kagami's legs, his own breath sucked in sharp and fast when Akashi palms over the hard line of his cock. "This," he bluntly says, biting again, sucking on the skin, "is nice." 

 

“Uh...thanks?” Kagami groans, letting his legs spread for Akashi’s demanding hand, rubbing up against that firm pressure. His hands dip down to cup Akashi’s ass, which is so ridiculously sculpted that he has to nod to himself in appreciation. He tries to think, which is so much more difficult when Akashi is touching his erect cock through his pants. “I--I mean, we’ve done the stuff. Blowjobs, butt stuff--like, the whole way. Uh, you?”

 

Akashi exhales a sound that is most certainly more akin to sounding very, very jealous more than anything else, and his fingers curl, slowly squeezing. "I've never gone all the way. Reo refuses because I'm younger than him." He sighs, abandoning Kagami's cock for the sole purpose of helping him out of his shirt--necessary, he thinks, because being able to get his hands on such nice muscle is very deserved after today's victory. "A travesty, really. That's going to change, right now." 

 

“I’ve--only done it a couple times,” Kagami admits, rocking forward against Akashi, squeezing and massaging at his ass. “I mean, we don’t usually do it like that. I’m always--you know. Afraid.”

 

"Ah….right." Kagami's hands are distracting in the best of ways, and Akashi bites down into the crook of his shoulder next as he grinds forward, his breath hiccuping at the friction even when they're still both mostly clothed. "Because Tetsuya," he lowly notes, " _is_ remarkably delicate. Well, I'm not." 

 

“I’m not saying it wasn’t good with him.” That’s important, and Kagami squeezes hard, looking into those strange crimson eyes. “I just--he’s not _that_ delicate, he just gets tired and wants to stop sometimes.”

 

Still, this conversation is going in a pretty good direction. “So...wanna go to the bedroom?”

 

"Obviously," Akashi breathes, sliding his way out of Kagami's lap less gracefully than he would have liked. Hm. His legs are strangely wobbly and that's kind of nice. "Lead the way, then." 

 

Kagami starts to get up, erection or no erection, then pauses. A few conflicting thoughts chase themselves through his mind, freed by the sudden lack of contact, and he leans forward, grabbing Akashi’s hand. “Akashi. Are you...sure we should be doing this?”

 

Akashi's brow furrows. "Why shouldn't we?" he returns, grabbing back at Kagami's hand and neatly attaching himself to Kagami's arm. "I want to, and you obviously seem to want to." _Or you did._  

 

“I dunno, just...how sure are you that this isn’t some kind of a prank?” The idea niggles at him, and he can’t banish it. “For all I know, you’re in on it with Kuroko and Aomine and the rest of them, testing me or something.”

 

Akashi isn't quite sure how Kagami would _ever_ come to that conclusion--but then he starts thinking about it. Maybe this is a prank that _he_ isn't in on, either. Could it be? Is this a conspiracy to make it so that he's never, _ever_ supposed to actually have sex?

 

"I am the _last_ person you need to worry about that with," he firmly says. "First of all, I've been informed that I cannot tell jokes. Second of all, I am very tired of being the last virgin of the Generation of Miracles."

 

“You--” Kagami’s eyes widen. “Oh. Heh. Yeah, I guess that would be kind of...lame.” Not like _him_ , who totally lost his virginity _over_ a month ago. Much cooler. “Wait. Even Murasakibara?”

 

Akashi's lips purse. "Apparently. Shintarou has the audacity to call me sheltered, I'd like to remedy that." 

 

“We’re not dating.” Kagami’s grip tightens. “I need to make that clear. I’m--dammit, I shouldn’t be doing this just to get back at Kuroko, this is fucked up.” 

 

He lets go of Akashi’s hand, slumping back into the chair. Now that he’s thinking of it, it’s hard _not_ to think of Aomine’s dark hands wandering over Kuroko’s pale skin, muscle on muscle as they roll around under the blankets, the soft wet sound of lips meeting, that little gasp Kuroko always--

 

Kagami grits his teeth. None of this is what he’d signed up for.

 

Foiled? Again? _Really?_ Akashi wonders if he's cursed. At any rate, this is annoying and frustrating and climbing his way back into Kagami's lap is the first solution he can think of. "You're obviously not doing this to get back at him," he says, grabbing Kagami's chin and forcing his head up. "This was my idea. Remember? If you're going to back out, at least have the decency to not sulk about it." He's going to get a complex about this sort of thing, he swears.

 

Kagami’s face tilts up, and his mouth goes dry. There’s no shaking the feeling that Kuroko is going to show up with Aomine, laughing at him and shaking their heads in disappointment that he was so weak, Kuroko looking hurt.

 

Then again...Akashi is on his _lap_.

 

_Fuck it. Kuroko has a boyfriend, not a saint._

 

Kagami lurches to his feet, lifting Akashi and crossing to his bedroom in five long strides, kicking the door shut behind him. “You’re right. I’m doing this because I want to. And you’re really hot.”

 

This is a _much_ more acceptable reaction…and against all logical sense, being picked up by someone tall and very strong _does_ do it for him. "I _am_ , aren't I," Akashi says, quite satisfied to hear that. His fingers yank at Kagami's hair, his mouth on his neck once more. "Everyone else is missing out," he mutters. "On both of us." 

 

Kagami snorts, and yanks at the waistband of Akashi’s basketball shorts, tossing them back over his shoulder. “I’ve been trying to tell everyone that for years.” His hand slides up Akashi’s thigh, curling around his cock, and the noise he lets out is more of a reverent gasp than anything. To hell with it, Kagami _does_ love cock.

 

Akashi arches with a hiss of breath, his teeth nipping into Kagami's skin and leaving yet another mark amongst the few that he already has scattered there. "Don't--touch it too much, I'm easy," he warns, because at least he _knows_ that about himself, thank you, Mibuchi Reo. Releasing Kagami as he wriggles back down into the bed is ideal, because ripping off his own shirt and grabbing for Kagami's shorts is definitely all part of the game plan now. "What about you?" he lowly presses, eyes alight and eager. "Are you going to come the second I let you put it in, or are you going to behave yourself?" 

 

It takes Kagami a second to think, to think about what he knows about himself, and to apply it to the current situation. It’s a lot harder than he’d planned when he’s extremely distracted by getting his own clothes off, especially when there’s a dick in his hand that isn’t his own. “Uh...I think I’m okay as far as that goes? I mean, never had a complaint or anything.” Except _Kagami-kun, you’re definitely squishing me, please roll over._

 

"Good." Which is exactly why Akashi has no qualms about grabbing for Kagami's dick again, his hand on actual _skin_ this time, because like hell he's going to let Kagami have second thoughts _again_. Akashi can, at least, say that he's done this before, even if Mibuchi has always been _so_ obnoxious about letting it go any further. "Obviously, I'll defer to your experience this once."

 

Okay, that’s kind of cool. Kagami would be lying if he said he didn’t like the idea of having Akashi defer to his experience or whatever, even if that does put a substantial amount of pressure on him. “Turn over,” he says quietly, big hands on Akashi’s hips helping him, arranging him onto all fours. He rolls off the bed, pulling out a box underneath that he keeps forgetting to lock (just in case his dad shows up and gets curious), pulling out a couple condoms and an industrial-sized pump-bottle of lube. “You sure you like anal? If you don’t, it’s cool.”

 

"I have money and live in a dorm room far away from my family, I know very much what I like," Akashi sniffs, not _entirely_ pleased about being arranged this way, but tolerating it, just for this moment. He settles down onto his elbows, blowing a strand of his hair out of his face. "I'm not even sure why this has to be the end-all, be-all, but most upperclassmen that I know seem to blanch at the idea of doing this with someone younger. I hate that." 

 

Kagami privately thinks--no, he publicly thinks it, because what good is keeping a civil tongue in his head when it comes to Akashi? “They’re probably just scared of you and looking for an excuse.” He thinks of Himuro, and snorts. “I know none of _my_ upperclassmen ever had an issue with that kind of thing.”

 

"I assumed as much, but…ugh. I don't think so, not in some cases…" Akashi twists partially back, pawing at one of Kagami's arms. "Either way, _you're_ not scared of me, so let's do this." 

 

Kagami laughs, and squirts a liberal dollop of lube into the cleft of Akashi’s ass, letting it drip down over his hole. He sits back on his knees, slicking up his fingers, and can’t resist bringing his other hand up to stroke over Akashi’s cock, lips parting in eagerness. “You have a _nice_ cock,” he murmurs, and slides a finger into his tight hole.

 

It probably shouldn't be _so_ satisfying to have someone _else_ do it for a change, but it is. Akashi shudders, his knees planting more firmly into the bed as he wriggles back, sighing out a breath when that makes that finger slide deeper into him. His cock twitches against Kagami's fingers, harder still. "And you," he groans, pressing one flushed cheek down to the sheets, "have nice hands. K…keep going." 

 

“Not like I’m gonna stop now,” Kagami mutters, rebellious about continuing when he’s _ordered_ to, even if he would have kept going nonetheless. Still, watching Akashi’s back arch, his breath catch, his skin flush, feeling him twitch around him...that’s more than enough to entice him along. He slides in a second finger, pulling on Akashi’s cock with every careful thrust inside. “You don’t _feel_ like a virgin,” he teases. “You get a lot of practice with that stick up your ass?”

 

Akashi swings a hand back in a half-hearted attempt to hit at him, but it's not very effective, and he doesn't care, besides. Right. Kagami's fingers are much bigger than his own, and two of them is getting fairly close to that nice vibrator stashed in the deepest, darkest corner of his dorm room. Good. Perfect. "I'm going to make you be my step-stool later," he grinds out, which is certainly _not_ threatening when he's out of breath and Kagami's hand on his cock is another level of distracting.  

 

“Yeah, yeah. Promises, promises.” Kagami slides in a third finger, and swipes the palm of his hand over the head of Akashi’s cock, coming away slick and wet. He can’t quite resist bringing it to his mouth, or the low, feral noise that comes out of his mouth when he licks it. _God, I’m such a damn homo._ “Gonna--make sure you’re taken care of first.”

 

It's the third finger that makes his knees weak and his legs wobble, and Akashi hears himself panting low and fast more than he really registers that it's _him._ He squirms back, his face half-buried into one arm, one hand clawing into the sheets as he arches back. "Take care of me by putting your _dick in me_ ," he rasps out. "I'm ready, your fingers _aren't enough_ \--"

 

“God, maybe those guys won’t fuck you because you’re so _pushy_.” Kagami pulls out his fingers, reluctantly letting go of Akashi’s cock as well before raising up onto his knees behind Akashi. He grabs a condom, rolling it slowly onto his cock before adding more lube. “How do you...I mean, choose a position you’re gonna be comfortable in, okay?”

 

"Most people _like it_ when I'm pushy," Akashi defensively mutters, and he twists around, flopping onto his back, and immediately grabbing for Kagami. "I like being able to feel how much heavier you are," he says without hesitation.

 

Kagami mutters something that sounds suspiciously like _size kink_ , then lets himself be tugged down, covering Akashi’s body with his own. It still feels a little _wrong_ \--there should be blue eyes, not red--the shoulders are too muscled--the hands that reach for him are precise and measured, not eager and a little flustered--but it feels kind of fantastic, too. 

 

He reaches down, nuzzling under Akashi’s ear and pressing a slow, sucking kiss to the flesh there, then settles between Akashi’s legs, making room for himself. He starts to nibble, then reaches down to guide his cock, bringing it up to Akashi’s slick hole. “I’m, uh, coming in.”

 

From everything that _anyone_ has ever told him, sex for the first time is supposed to be unenjoyable and awful and Akashi _has_ been braced for that.

 

Fortunately, they are wrong. Mostly.

 

A real, hard cock is different than fingers or any toy and that's both excellent and a little daunting--but only a little. It's the first press that takes his breath away and makes him hiss and squirm, makes his fingers dig into Kagami's shoulders as his legs shake hard. 

 

When the head finally pops inside, it's easier, and Akashi's thighs squeeze tight against Kagami's waist, his fingers dragging down to his upper arms, his head falling back as a rush of breath leaves his lungs. "Good--it's _good_ \--"

 

“You feel damn good yourself,” Kagami breathes, struggling to keep himself under control. He fails initially, dragging Akashi down onto his cock with a sudden snap and a grunt of surprise. “Shit, sorry--that’s most of it, you okay?”

 

He kisses the top of Akashi’s head, running hands up and down his torso in silent apology, trying to coax him back to pleasure before he starts thrusting.

 

A few logical deductions make it very, very clear that Kagami is used to having to apologize for being that fast, or that rough, or-- _whatever_. 

 

Akashi is having none of it. The second most of Kagami's cock shoves inside of him, his spine feels like it's melting out from under him in the best way possible, and his hands are like vices against the other boy's back, clinging and grabbing as he arches _down_ for that last couple of inches. "I'm-- _very_ fine," Akashi groans, grabbing for one of Kagami's hands, shoving it _down_ to where he can touch his cock and feel exactly how hard he is still, dripping over his own stomach. "I told you--you have a nice cock, this proves it."

 

“O-oh.” _That’s_ nice, for sure. Kagami’s hand curls around Akashi’s thick cock, stroking and rubbing over the hard flesh with every breath he takes. That’s nice too, though not as nice as the way it feels to slide deep into Akashi, feeling him shove down and demand even more cock. 

 

He grunts, hips slapping up when he finally gives in to his instincts, turning to place a hard, sweet bite on the curve of Akashi’s ear. “You know,” he whispers with a hard thrust, “you look fucking gorgeous like this.”

 

Akashi shudders. His breath catches up easily in his chest when Kagami's cock is so, _so_ far in him, and he loves that, even if his legs are a shaky, trembling mess when they're not squeezing tightly to Kagami's waist or hips or wherever he can get them to fasten to when he's thinking about it. 

 

Thinking, admittedly, is easier said than done, and that's the _whole point._

 

It feels about like he thought it would, _far_ better than his own hand or a toy that barely gets him off, and getting his teeth into Kagami's neck or shoulder when he can makes it a lot easier to writhe down and ride every thrust, his body squeezing tight around that hard, thick cock. Getting fucked by Kagami Taiga, apparently, feels rather akin to riding a wild animal. He could get _used_ to that. 

 

Kagami’s hands slide down Akashi’s sides, down to squeeze and lift his ass, angling him better for every rhythmic thrust. His breath comes in harsh pants, and he yanks Akashi down into each pump of his hips, filling him as full as possible every time he moves. He looks down, and almost loses it. At this angle, it’s easy to see his cock shoving into that slick hole stretched around him, a sight so obscene he can hardly stand it. 

 

It feels startlingly good to fuck Akashi, to sink deep into him and get nothing but a delighted groan, to feel sharp teeth nipping at his flesh, hands clutching him to drag him deeper. “Y-you sure you’ve never done this before?” he pants, slamming in to the root, wanting Akashi to _feel_ all of him.

 

Belatedly, Akashi thinks to clamp a hand over his own mouth--but it doesn't do any damned good to keep his voice down when that last thrust makes his entire body feel like it's been shoved around and stuffed so, _so_ full. "Taking that as a compliment," he gasps out, getting his hands embedded into Kagami's shoulders instead, clawing against his back and arching his own to better grind down and hear the sticky, slick _slap_ of their skin against one another. "You--have _such_ a nice cock-- _god_ \--"

 

He _did_ warn Kagami that he's easy, and Akashi briefly marvels that it's taken this long. He doesn't last past another thrust, however, because the way that Kagami grabs his ass and yanks him around and fucks him _hard_ is exactly what he wants, and makes his mind blissfully _shut up_. Akashi's teeth sink into the other boy's shoulder as he comes with a broken, breathless whine, spilling messily over his own stomach. 

 

Akashi sounds finished, and Kagami exhales deeply. Then he shifts, spreading his knees wider on the bed, pinning Akashi’s knees down as far apart as they’ll go. “You okay for me to finish in here?” he asks, tugging the condom at the base to keep it from scooting up his thick length. “I can pull out...”

 

Even as shaky as he is, Akashi grabs hard at Kagami's arm the _second_ he says that. "Don't," he breathlessly manages, his eyes flashing through his lashes, "you dare. I like it when you fuck me hard, so finish like that." Saying something like that--his father would kill him, Midorima would probably high-five him, and Mibuchi would be on the floor half-dead. _Good._

 

“You asked for it.” It’s probably not the nicest thing Kagami has ever said. Right now, with Akashi sucking him in, looking up dazed and fucked out, it hardly seems to matter. 

 

Kagami rests half of his weight on his hands, on Akashi’s knees, all the better to hold him spread out and open. He hunches over, hips pistoning slow and hard at first, then faster and faster, until the rough slap of skin on skin fills the air, and sweat starts to drip from Kagami’s face. It’s harder than he’s ever fucked anyone, and the brutal pace makes him surge, draws out the hunger in him, and the sound ripped from his lungs is wild, uncontrolled when he finally tips over the edge. Akashi has to be hurting, but Kagami couldn’t hear it even if he talked, can only hear the roar of blood in his ears, the jackhammer of his heart. His body nearly convulses as he fucks his release into Akashi’s willing body, flooding the condom with a last brutal thrust.

 

The intense, incredible stillness afterwards makes even Akashi's own breathing seem too loud, and he swallows hard, slowly sinking down into the bed, every single muscle feeling like some oddly twitching, trembling mess. 

 

It's not too far from how he feels after a particularly long, arduous game, but…those are _definitely_ some different muscles that hurt. 

 

His thighs, definitely, are of the mind to twitch and spasm, but Akashi ignores that in favor of reaching up, grabbing Kagami's face and hauling him down for a hard, wet kiss. That's better than verbal praise, probably, especially when talking sounds _so_ difficult.

 

A kiss is just about the mental capacity Kagami has left after that orgasm. His mouth opens, letting Akashi in, moaning as even the play of tongue against lips is enough to set his nerves alight again. Slowly, he unclenches his hands, letting Akashi’s knees free when his arms come up to wrap around Akashi’s back. 

 

God, Akashi’s a sinfully good kisser.

 

When Akashi eventually does draw back, it's not neatly, but with a sticky mess of saliva connecting their lips that he breaks with a flick of his tongue. "Judging by your reactions," he murmurs, flopping back slightly, "Reo did well in teaching me. I'm glad."

 

“I get the feeling you were kind of a natural,” Kagami murmurs, bringing up a hand to cup Akashi’s face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.

 

Not how he’d intended to spend his afternoon, perhaps, but at least Kagami doesn’t feel like he’s especially losing out on too much, not with the way Akashi is being so oddly gentle, oddly accommodating. “So. This is the real Akashi Seijuurou, huh?”

 

Akashi blinks up at him slowly, and shrugs. "More or less. I wasn't myself, before." 

 

He shifts, gingerly, and gives Kagami's chest a soft tap. "Would you mind pulling out now? It still feels sort of good, but I'm almost afraid we're going to get stuck like this…"

 

“Sorry, yeah.” Kagami is only just starting to go soft, and he pulls out with a grimace, sliding off the condom and tossing it into the nearby trash can. A second later, he sighs. “I definitely forgot to tie that off. Shit.”

 

"Condoms always seem so annoying," Akashi complains, and he carefully rolls, stretching out on Kagami's bed and testing exactly how sore he is. Not as much as he expected--at least, right now--so that's nice. He grabs for Kagami, and promptly buries his way into his chest. "You're very warm."

 

“It’s in the name, I’ve been told,” Kagami says, wrapping an arm around Akashi. This...this is the weird part. Hell, it almost feels like they’re dating, as weird as that idea is. Still, even though they aren’t, that doesn’t mean they can’t have a snuggle. Aomine is _definitely_ going to snuggle Kuroko tonight. If that thought makes Kagami’s arm a little tighter, well, he’s only human.

 

"You can kick me out whenever you want," Akashi says, barely swallowing down a yawn, and certainly makes no attempt to pull away. If anything, he snuggles a bit closer. "I have no idea what the etiquette is for this sort of thing."

 

“Me neither,” Kagami admits. “I mean, I’ve only done this kind of thing with a couple other guys.” Without moving too much, he manages to get the corner of one blanket free and throws it over both of them, proof against the winter chill that somehow seeps in even with the heat on.

 

"Mmn…none of my business, but--" He'll ask anyway. "Tetsuya obviously--and who else?" 

 

If he weren’t sleepy and content already, Kagami probably wouldn’t answer. As it is, he yawns, thumb stroking over Akashi’s shoulder. “Tatsuya. Uh, Himuro, who goes to Yosen. I mean, not all the way, but we did some stuff.” He’d given his first inexpert blowjob, and Himuro had patted his head and come on his face before cuddling with him. Then he’d whispered, “ _I don’t really date, you know, Taiga,_ ” and leaving after an hour.

 

Akashi twitches a little at the mention of that name, but doesn't move. "I don't think I particularly like him," he murmurs, his face half-buried into Kagami's neck, because that seems like a very comfortable face for it to be. "He's not as kind as he likes everyone to think he is." 

 

“Nah...he’s really not.” At least he’s old enough that he can admit that now. “I mean, he’s like my brother. I still love him. But he just gets these weird ideas in his head, and they get really selfish sometimes.” His other arm steals low around Akashi’s waist, tugging him close. Apparently that’s just his life now.

 

Well, at least his first impression wasn't wrong…although Akashi nearly wishes it was. This is a rare occasion when it's much better to be wrong and to have poor snap judgement. His mouth twists, and he squishes himself against Kagami a bit more. "It's good to know that I need to check on Atsushi more frequently, then." 

 

“Who--oh, Murasakibara?” Kagami snorts. “I dunno. He seems like he can take care of hims...” Memory flashes of Himuro punching Murasakibara in the face during their match, and he stops talking. “I dunno. I thought his idiot act was mostly just for show.”

 

"It is. That doesn't mean he doesn't need to be properly taken care of." Ahh, now he's restless just thinking about it. Akashi shifts, carefully unwinding himself from Kagami. "I'm just going to go grab my phone from the other room," he says, gingerly sliding off of the bed. "Do you need anything?" 

 

“Oh.” Kagami sighs, stretching out. _Probably wasn’t the best source of conversation._ “Wanna grab me a Pocari from the fridge? If you need to go somewhere I can give you directions.”

 

"I don't need to go anywhere, I just need to make sure no one is looking for me." 

 

Akashi disappears from the bedroom, and is only gone a minute or two. He shuts the door as he returns, a Pocari and his cellphone in hand, but most notably, he's draped in Kagami's previously discarded t-shirt, because _logically_ , it's cold and this is a very quick way to be warm and draped with minimal dressing required. "Here," he lightly offers, hopping back onto the bed and passing the drink over. "Did Tetsuya say when you should be expecting him over, if at all? If so, I should probably leave beforehand to avoid anything awkward, but otherwise, I'm in no hurry." 

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Still in Tokyo, but**

**If my so-called purity was the issue, that is properly settled now.**

 

Less than five seconds later, his phone predictably rings. Akashi, sort of vaguely amused, answers. "Yes?" 

 

Mibuchi Reo’s voice is on the verge of panic, laced with a delicate thread of tears that threatens to turn into a wail at any time. “Sei-chan! This is horrible! Was it a molester? No, Sei-chan is too powerful to be taken advantage of like that--ahhhh, noooo, Sei-chan, you’ve compromised your virtue! For me? _I’ll shatter!!_ Are you all right? Were they good to you? Nee-san will kill them if they weren’t!”

 

This is followed by several heavy breaths, and a few mutterings of, “Leave me alone, Hayama, _I am calm._ ”

 

"So _was_ it a matter of purity? Because now I'm thoroughly sullied." Mibuchi is very easy to push the buttons of, and Akashi does like that. He probably should feel worse about riling him up like this, but then again, Mibuchi is the one that refused him for all of those months. He flops back over Kagami's bed, blinking up at the ceiling. "Which is a fairly good way to be, I think."

 

Kagami twists the top off of his Pocari, amused at the one-sided conversation more than he probably should be. He slides an arm around Akashi’s shoulders, deciding to cherish the time they do have together.

 

“Sei-chan, you got it _all wrong!_ First of all, Sei-chan will always be pure of heart, and pure to me. Secondly, it’s a matter of impropriety! It would be _wrong_ to take advantage of my sweet little kohai!! Sei-chan, you didn’t just think I was making up stupid rules to keep us apart, did you? Nee-san _loves_ you, you shouldn’t be letting people who don’t treat you right lay their hands on you!”

 

Half-way through that rant, Akashi calmly puts Mibuchi onto speakerphone, and sets the phone down onto the bed to better nestle his way up against Kagami. "You're the one that refused me for so long," he mildly points out. "I have needs. I never saw anything wrong about that. We've discussed this." 

 

Reo huffs and spits and whines for a few seconds, then goes entirely quiet. After a moment, he speaks in his normal voice, a few octaves lower. “Sei-chan. Please tell me you’re all right.”

 

"Do I sound like I'm not all right?" Akashi heaves a sigh, and calmly steals the Pocari out of Kagami's grasp to take a sip. "I'm fine. Do you want to know who it was?"

 

“You’re just trying to make Nee-san fly into a jealous rage,” Mibuchi sighs. “Did you use a condom? And lots of lube? Did you prep first like I showed you?”

 

Kagami side-eyes the phone, then deliberately leans over and sucks on Akashi’s bottom lip, stealing the Pocari back.

 

"Ah…………yes."

 

Distracted. That is his current state. "He was very good," Akashi lightly offers up. "Taller than you, sorry. I have a type."

 

“You’re not going to distract me, Sei-chan. I’m not going to fall victim to your wiles!” There’s a pause. Then, “How _much_ taller?”

 

Kagami takes advantage of Akashi’s distracted state, working his way down to Akashi’s chest with a smirk, trailing his tongue down the indent of his belly, feeling his nose brush soft curls.

 

Ah. This is happening. And…nice. It's nice. Akashi's breath hitches and he subsequently flops backwards onto his elbows, half-heartedly grabbing for his phone. He probably should end this call. Probably. "Just a couple of centimeters," he breathes. "But it makes a difference. And he's very…" His hand skims over Kagami's shoulders, fingers dragging over hard muscle. " _Broad_.Which you know I also like."

 

“Sei-chan...this sounds suspiciously like reminiscing.”

 

Kagami bends further, pressing a soft wet kiss to the inside of one strong thigh, licking a stripe where the leg meets torso, tasting sweat and salt and skin heavy on his tongue.

 

“Sei-chan...hmm, what else was he like? Tell Nee-san a story.” The voice has changed a little to something lower, more curious, and Kagami can only think of heavy-lidded eyes.

 

"You're sure you don't want a face to go along with this? Or does that ruin it?" Akashi murmurs, his hand dragging up through Kagami's hair now, slowly kneading along his scalp. His skin twitches underneath that tongue, his breath hiccuping a little. "Because he's _very_ strong and warm, and has lovely hands. He's good with them, he proved that." 

 

Mibuchi’s voice trails downward into something like a purr, and there’s a shifting of fabric on the other end of the line. “Sei-chan...did you like it? When he used his hands? If he’s tall, I bet they’re _big_ , aren’t they?”

 

Kagami splays his hands out on Akashi’s thighs, then dips down, sucking the head of Akashi’s half-hard cock into his mouth.

 

"Uh-- _huh_." Akashi's voice goes up at the end, breaking a little when Kagami's lips close over his cock. He sucks in a sharper breath, hiking up his borrowed shirt up further, and licks his lips as he watches Kagami work, his cock twitching to life again with just another lap of Kagami's tongue. "They're really big. Still--he managed to fit three fingers inside of me." 

 

“I bet that’s not all he put in there,” Mibuchi breathes. He sets down the phone for a moment, then picks it up again with a click. “Is he in you now, Sei-chan? Is he really big?”

 

Kagami reaches up and takes one of Akashi’s hands, bringing it to rest on the top of his own head. Then he slowly curls his tongue around the head, sucking softly, fitting more of the length into his mouth. If there’s one thing he’s mildly sure he’s decent at in bed, it’s this.

 

"N…not right now, but he's--definitely…very…" Right, multi-tasking. He is a _star_ at that. At least, that's what Akashi attempts to remind himself of, which is easier said than done when Kagami's mouth is on his dick and doing some very, very nice things. His fingers twitch and tug at his hair, his breath hitching hard. It takes effort not to pull too hard or shove his hips up, because Kagami's mouth is as hot as the rest of him, and feels _so_ good like this. "He's very big. More than those fingers--but it felt as good as I always thought it would, when he fucked me." _Let that sink in for awhile and maybe you'll finally do it later._

 

There’s a muffled groan from the other end of the line, and a few labored breaths. “Sei-chan is so naughty now that he’s not a virgin,” Mibuchi whispers. “You’re going to put my determination to the test, hmm? Was he a good boy, or are you all _messy_?”

 

Kagami pulls off gently, then drags his lips down to the base, carefully taking Akashi’s balls in his mouth, sucking on them for a long moment. When he pulls off, he replaces his mouth with his hand, rubbing over the slick skin as he takes that thick cock back into his mouth with a soft moan, feeling the head slide past his lips.

 

So _this_ is overstimulation to the fullest. Go figure it would be like this, with the idiot that defeated him, and the idiot that won't just _put it in him._ Akashi groans, his fingers clenching into Kagami's hair, his hips twitching up on their own accord to rub his cock even more against that perfect tongue. "It's--he was good, but no promises on how long that'll last," he huffs out. "Or maybe I should save that for you?"

 

“Sei-chan, you’re going to kill me,” Mibuchi says raggedly, and there are definitely distinctive rhythmic rubbing noises coming from the other end now. “I--dammit, if you say we can take it slow, fine, fine, I give.”

 

Kagami wriggles his tongue along the underside of Akashi’s cock, flicking the tip just at the catch of the widest part of the head, moving forward to let it slide deeper into his mouth, along with the tug on his hair.

 

"Define slow." There's nothing slow about this, because at this rate, he's going to come again in just a few seconds. Akashi's breath stutters and he briefly jerks his gaze away and up to the ceiling, swallowing hard to _try_ and piece himself together when he's basically already a squirming mess underneath Kagami's tongue and is clinging to his hair with both hands. "I--god, if you don't let me on your cock the second I'm back in Kyoto," he pants out, all bets on his filter _off_ when his cock slides just deep enough that the head of it bumps and rubs against the back of Kagami's throat.

 

There’s a sudden low groan, then several heavy pants from the other side of the phone. A moment later, Mibuchi’s pleased voice murmurs, “You win, Sei-chan. Let the boy breathe at least.”

 

Kagami swallows around Akashi’s cock, trying not to gag or choke and failing a bit, but no less determined for all of that. His eyes are watering freely, and he knows he’s making appallingly messy noises, saliva running down the sides of Akashi’s cock mixed with salty-bitter fluid already. Kagami doesn’t pull away--not that he could, with those hands on his head--and tries to relax, even as Akashi is forcing himself down his throat.

 

Admittedly, Akashi doesn't last long enough to really _hear_ that he's won, but he assumes that he does, anyway. His pulse is thudding loud and hard in his ears as he spills down Kagami's throat, still clinging to his hair. If he wasn't a shaky, breathless mess before, he is now, with the muscles even in his calves trembling courtesy of how tightly his toes are curled. "S…sorry," he pants out, briefly forgetting about the phone call. "Ah--I got carried away. Taiga, I did _not_ expect you to be so good at that, are you all right?" 

 

Only now do Kagami’s cheeks start burning, even if there’s a satisfied look on his tear-stained face. He wipes his mouth and chin, jerking his head towards the phone. “Oi, don’t say my name.”

 

“Taiga? _Kagami Taiga?_ Sei-chan, your _taste_ \--”

 

"Oops," Akashi says, rather unconcerned, and languidly melts into the bed. "Reo, be nice. I think I have good taste. He has a _very_ nice…everything."

 

“I was _going_ to say that it’s improved since Junior High,” Mibuchi says with a tinkling laugh. “Text me when you’re getting home, won’t you? I’ll pick you up from the station and we can have a nice long chat.”

 

Kagami lays his cheek on one of Akashi’s thighs, smiling to himself. At least he doubts anyone Akashi likes that much would have a loose tongue about him.

 

"Mm. I'm looking forward to it. Good bye, Reo." Akashi ends the call with a sigh, and resumes petting Kagami's hair. "He won't mention it," he says to the question that's floating around. "He might send you flowers, though. I think he's quite pleased that such a 'responsibility' has been lifted from his shoulders." 

 

“I’m not, like, _that_ worried,” Kagami admits. “I just don’t want to get kicked off the team or anything. As long as no one catches me at school, I don’t care that much.” 

 

He nuzzles into the top of Akashi’s thigh, giving the skin a little kiss. “You’re really into him, huh?”

 

Akashi shivers slowly, and warns his body to _calm down already_. Honestly. He doesn't need that much testosterone or that much of a sex drive, it's just inconvenient. "I suppose I am," he admits eventually. "He…how to put it. He's been tolerant of me, even when I was not myself. Reo is a very sweet person." 

 

“A sweet person who seems like he’s coming around to the idea of doing his underclassman,” Kagami remarks pointedly. “That’s good, right? God, he’s lucky. You have a great dick.”

 

"He just has a sempai complex," Akashi says without batting an eye. "So inconvenient, but hopefully this has remedied that. And thank you, so do you. Tetsuya is lucky." 

 

Kagami huffs out a breath, hands massaging Akashi’s thighs. “You’re hinting this is just a one-time thing, right? You got the one you’re really waiting for.”

 

Akashi blinks down at him, shrugging lightly. "I don't see why it just has to be a one-time thing. Obviously, I currently live in Kyoto, so it's not going to be a frequent thing, but I'm not ruling out anything else that could happen…"

 

Kagami blinks. “Yeah?” At least that’s something to have in his back pocket if Kuroko decides that Aomine’s dick is simply too bomb. “Next time bring him along. Sounds like he’d be into that, don’t you think?”

 

"Maybe? He obviously didn't mind it over the phone. I'll have to ask." Akashi sits back, contemplative. "I wonder what his type is. I always thought he was into the prince type, because he's obsessed with the fact that I have a white horse." 

 

“You--never mind. Of course you do.” Kagami heaves himself up, squirming up next to Akashi. “Unless he’s a virgin, which I kind of doubt, he’s got to have done _someone_ else. And at the risk of giving you a compliment, there aren’t a lot of guys like you.”

 

"I think he dates women. Or has dated women. I'm not sure." Akashi flops to the side, leaning against Kagami's shoulder. "I've been told I'm an outlier before, but I'm willing to accept the issues that come with that. You, on the other hand, seem _much_ more well-adjusted than I thought. Tetsuya needs to realize that Daiki is in poor taste, you're vastly superior." 

 

Kagami’s chest puffs up a little at that, he must admit. “Wait...what did you think of me before? That I was another repressed basket case like the rest of you Japanese?”

 

"No. That you were a complete and utter hot-headed idiot that was basically an Americanized version of Daiki." Akashi's head cocks. "I'm not repressed. I'm very well aware of what I want. Shintarou is the repressed one, compare and contrast."

 

“Pretty sure he gets laid a lot more, though,” Kagami points out. “But point taken, yeah.” 

 

He flops onto his back, and sighs. “I think Kuroko saw me as the American knockoff brand Aomine for a while. Kinda thought we were over it, though.”

 

"Tetsuya is greedy," Akashi says matter-of-factly, sliding down onto the bed next to Kagami. "This is fairly par for the course. Also, the difference between Shintarou and I is taste. It's not hard to have sex with someone like Takao Kazunari." 

 

Kagami shrugs. “He’s hot. I’d do him.” Probably too blunt and to-the-point for someone like Akashi who practically oozes class, but Kagami can’t find it in himself to care right now.

 

Akashi flops onto his stomach, and his feet kick slowly back and forth. "Too slutty. And loud."

 

Kagami takes the opportunity to roll over on top of him, letting him feel the half-erection left over from having a cock in his mouth. “I don’t mind slutty,” he murmurs, nibbling at Akashi’s neck. “And loud is good in some places.”

 

"Then he's all yours," Akashi dryly retorts, tilting his head to the side in short order as he settles down quite contently underneath Kagami's weight. "Then again, I suppose Shintarou would think I'm really classless for enjoying _your_ company…"

 

“Don’t worry. I’m pretty sure everyone is gonna think you’re just slumming it. That’s what rich guys do, right?” Kagami teases, rocking his hips gently, more because it feels good than because he’s trying to accomplish anything.

 

"…Further definition is required," Akashi warily replies, and he paws absently for his phone, more to make sure it doesn't get tossed to the floor in the midst of all of this than anything. "I don't know what Tetsuya has told you, but I, personally, don't make a habit of flaunting my family's wealth."

 

“Slumming it,” Kagami repeats, somewhat in disbelief, then tries to think of a better translation into Japanese. “Uh...when rich guys head to the bad parts of town and wreck them up because they can. Or have sex with poor people because they know they can get away with it. That kind of thing. Having fun and making your parents mad at the same time.”

 

"Oh. No. I never do anything like that, my father would kill me." Akashi tilts his head back to look at him. "Also, you're not poor. Obviously." 

 

“Compared to you, isn’t everyone?”

 

"I…yes? Probably? That has been suggested to me in the past."

 

Kagami barks out a laugh, and slides up again, cock rubbing at the back of Akashi’s thigh. “So, are you going to make me do all the work here?”

 

"You _could_ be more forceful and just put me where you want me, you know," Akashi grouses, and he half-heartedly squirms, kicking at one of Kagami's legs. "Perhaps Tetsuya doesn't like being manhandled, but I'm a different species." 

 

Kagami rolls over onto his back, raising one eyebrow in challenge. “Maybe I want you to take initiative. You could manhandle _me_ for a chance.”

 

Akashi snorts at that and sits up, shaking out his hair from his face. "Now who's the pushy one?" he archly tosses back. 

 

“The one who didn’t get his dick sucked,” Kagami counters, and shifts his legs apart, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself and give it a few long pulls. “Can you blame me?”

 

" _You're_ the one that decided that was necessary while I was making a phone call. I have little sympathy, even if it was good." Akashi's lips twitch in amusement, and he moves, dropping himself down neatly into seiza between Kagami's legs. A few extra, odd muscles twitch, but that's easy enough to ignore. "So. Do you want me to return the favor, or…"

 

Kagami gives his hand a twist at the end, sighing as his head tips back. “Whatever you want. I, uh...I know how it is. To want to try stuff with guys and not have anyone who’ll do you.” Those had been some long years alone with his hand and his fantasies, that’s for sure. “If there’s something you wanna try before you try it on him, go ahead.”

 

"It's not like we haven't done a number of other things…" Akashi trails off contemplatively, watching the stroke of Kagami's hand with lidded eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. "But he _hasn't_ ever let me give him head. Will you teach me? You're obviously quite…experienced." 

 

_Nice, faked the hell out of it._

 

Kagami sits up on his elbows, then grabs a few pillows, propping himself up so he can better see what’s about to happen. “Yeah, sure. What’s your gag reflex like? That’s gonna change how you do it.”

 

Akashi thinks about it, and finally says, somewhat apologetically: "…Seaweed tends to be all that it takes to make me gag, does that count."

 

“Why...would you even bring that up...?” Kagami squints. “It’s not like I’m putting seaweed on my penis. Okay, get comfortable, you’re gonna be down there for a while. Then, uh, put your mouth on it. No teeth.”

 

The teeth comment is obvious and unnecessary common sense as far as Akashi is concerned, and he is _also_ very sure that this isn't a complete manual. Needs must, and if he's going to be as 'sullied' as he claimed, he needs to at least be able to do this properly so that the mere thought of it is enough to make Mibuchi toss him into a wall. 

 

With a light sigh, he bends, planting a hand against the bed as his other hand curls around Kagami's cock. Akashi's first lick to the tip is tentative--it could taste worse, could taste better, _whatever_. The point is, he can already feel Kagami twitch in his grasp, especially when he fits his lips around the head of his cock.

 

“S-sorry about the condom taste,” Kagami breathes, relaxing back against the pillows. “There’s, uh, flavored lube in the box under the bed if...ahh, if you want.” 

 

It’s only his second blowjob, if he’s being honest, and Akashi’s mouth is evidently better suited to the task than Kuroko’s. “It’s f-fine if you can only take the head in your mouth--just use your hand on the rest of it, it’ll feel really good.”

 

"It's fine, I don't mind it."

 

Akashi can barely taste the condom at all after a few swipes of his tongue. It's mostly just bitter and masculine, and he'd be a liar to say that didn't make him shiver. His fingers gently squeeze at the base of Kagami's cock, his tongue dragging a hot, wet swipe along the vein that runs up the underside. Kagami's cock is thick enough that it's annoying to fit it in his mouth…but that, too, is something of a turn-on. There's a screw loose in his head, somewhere. Probably. 

 

"You can grab at my hair, if you want," Akashi murmurs, glancing up briefly underneath his lashes. "Just don't get as gung-ho about it as I did," he wryly adds, and the next bob of his head helps his mouth slide past the head, just enough that that thick cock slides over his tongue, dripping enough that Akashi has to swallow with a low groan. 

 

“Rather just lay back and enjoy it, honestly,” Kagami says with a smile. He rests back onto his elbows and the pillows, letting his legs splay out on either side of Akashi. It feels unbelievably good on his cock, hot and wet and velvet-smooth, sliding over the head and engulfing it. 

 

“You--yeah, that’s really good.” Kagami sighs, and grits his teeth, trying to keep his hips still. “You can be rougher with your hand. Most guys like that.”

 

Judging by the way that Akashi can see _and_ feel Kagami's muscles twitch and bunch, he must be doing at least a few things correctly. The moment that he takes Kagami's advice, tightening and squeezing his fingers for the next, rougher stroke of his palm, he can feel the way that Kagami's hips twitch up all the more. 

 

Akashi exhales a soft breath through his nose, following that twitch of Kagami's hips, swallowing as much of that thick, heavy cock as he can. His gag reflex is destined to get in the way, he supposes--but it's easier than he thought it would be when he focuses and swallows and coaxes Kagami's cock down as far as he can before pulling off with a slow, sticky pop, his tongue still darting out to lave over the very tip again.

 

Kagami forces his hips down, forcing back a whimper at the slick drag of Akashi’s mouth on his cock, determined not to start thrusting. He vaguely remembers how casual Himuro had been about this--had sat on the side of the bed, as still and patient as if he were watching a cooking show on tv, occasionally petting his head as Kagami had sucked--and has no idea how the fuck he’d managed. 

 

“That’s great,” he murmurs, toes flexing and curling. “You, uh, basically have the best tongue ever.”

 

"Mmn? Do I?"

Compliments get Kagami everywhere, of course, especially when it's _so_ obvious how riled up he is. Akashi catches Kagami's gaze with his own the next time he parts his lips, laps and sucks at the head of his cock, not caring if it makes a mess. "When you're ready to come," he murmurs, "if you do it in my mouth, I'll swallow all of it." 

 

“Shit, that’s not fair,” Kagami groans, and loses the battle not to thrust his hips up. Akashi’s mouth just feels too sinfully good around him, too much like something so good guys like him just don’t _get_ to feel them that often. _This is the kind of head I’d get as an NBA player,_ he thinks wildly, and hears his heart thudding. “Yeah. Is that a fantasy of yours? Think that boyfriend of yours will come in your mouth?”

 

Akashi is at _least_ 99% certain that such a thing has been on Mibuchi's mind before--and why shouldn't it be? It isn't like he hasn't offered, but that damned sempai complex…

 

He just groans rather than pulls back to answer, lurching forward hungrily now that he's gotten the hang of this, and easily matches the upward thrust of Kagami's hips. Swallowing all of his cock isn't the easiest thing, and so Akashi doesn't try. Better is letting his hand do the work and his tongue the rest, so with every movement, he can just suck and lick and feel the way that Kagami pulses in his mouth.

 

Kagami’s hands finally come up, but not to grab his hair. One hand comes to cup Akashi’s face, the thumb resting at the side of his lips. The other wraps around Kagami’s own cock, rock hard and throbbing, as he feeds it to Akashi in the last slow pulses before he loses his mind.

 

When he comes, it’s a full-body shudder, a long-awaited release, spilling over Akashi’s tongue, filling his mouth with pulse after pulse. Come doesn’t taste good--Kagami _knows_ it doesn’t, knows his own doesn’t, but Akashi’s breathless promise had been so sweet. “Go on,” he pants, rubbing his thumb over that full lower lip. “Can you swallow it all?”

 

So help him, he's _going_ to.

 

Successfully kept promises are something akin to winning, _really_ , but more than that--this is _indulgently_ lewd and very…very much a turn-on, no matter the taste, even stronger like this. Kagami's cock is still hard on his tongue when Akashi swallows hard, and again, and nearly chokes with a cough when he works to catch up and swallow the last of it before pulling back. His tongue flicks out, running over Kagami's thumb before his teeth gently catch against it, and he _does_ let himself cough, finally, when he draws back enough to do so politely into his hand. "I don't _think_ I missed any," he breathes.

 

Kagami collapses back against the pillows. “I don’t care how experienced this guy is. There’s no way he’s ready for you. He’s gonna have a heart attack.”

 

Infinitely pleased, Akashi crawls his way back up, flopping right back down next to him. "Good," he lightly says, and if it were coming from anyone else, someone would label the tone as downright cheerful. "That's the desired effect." 

 

“Also,” Kagami adds, entirely thrilled by the idea when he curls an arm around Akashi, “I’m pretty sure we’re having better sex than Aomine is with my boyfriend right now.”

 

"Absolutely." Akashi rolls, nestling his way against Kagami's chest. "Doesn't Daiki strike you as extraordinarily selfish? Pass." 

 

Kagami huffs out a breath, nuzzling into the top of Akashi’s hair. “I mean, no lie, he probably looks amazing naked. But yeah. Selfish as hell. How good can that dick really be?”

 

"He is very attractive. And apparently, his dick is also good. The point is, I can't handle people like him for longer than a quick, efficient basketball game, so definite pass." Akashi's eyes narrow in thought. "Or perhaps if he's collared and leashed properly. That's the exception." 

 

Kagami’s dick gives a hard, interested twitch, and Kagami grunts. “Shut up,” he mutters at it.

 

Akashi lifts his head enough to give Kagami a vague stare, and he asks, honestly curious, "Was that in relation to seeing Daiki collared and leashed, or just the idea of me doing it to someone? I can understand the appeal of both." 

 

“Not even sure,” Kagami admits with a short laugh. “Be hot on him. You’d be hot doing it to someone.”

 

"Fair enough. Well, if it ever happens, I'll take a picture and send it your way. He'll hate it and you can gloat." 

 

“Sounds good to me.” Kagami’s hand wanders down to Akashi’s ass, and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. This would have been a shitty weird day without you. This way it’s just...weird.”

 

Akashi nods in absent agreement, content to have his ass be a stress ball for someone with hands as nice as Kagami's for some time. "Likewise, really. Spending time with you was not only acceptable company, but helped me make a point to Reo. This has been productive."

 

Kagami squeezes, and flops down entirely. “Well. As long as it was productive. Guess it’s okay.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Kuroko knows that he is probably too annoyed for the situation.

 

He doesn't even know if something is happening, after all. One can just assume. With Akashi, it's better to assume, because he'd teased the thought of it throughout the match, and Kagami obviously was receptive, but…hm. 

 

 _You brought it on yourself, there's no reason he can't go have fun with someone else, too_ , he reminds himself firmly, and makes an attempt to exhale _out_ the bad thoughts every time they rise up. Akashi isn't a bad person. He might still be something of a sore spot, but every member of his old team still is, even…

 

"Aomine-kun." Kuroko gazes up at him, clutching firmly to his puffy-coat-enclosed arm. "I think I might be overreacting. Tell me if I'm overreacting." 

 

Aomine scopes out the outside of his apartment, checking to see which cars are in their assigned spaces--excellent. Spot 206 is empty, just as he’d been hoping it would be. With that in mind, it’s a quick trip upstairs in a tiny, noisy elevator that still hasn’t quite recovered from the last earthquake. “About Akashi’s dick in Kagami?”

 

The most excellent thing about Aomine is that there needn't be a verbal ladder. Even after so long, there's a mental one, and Kuroko does find that soothing to come back to. "Mm." His brow furrows. "Do you think it will actually happen? It _is_ Akashi-kun, but…I'm not sure. He tried to stab Kagami-kun, that one time…"

 

“He might do it again, just with a different tool. And in a different location.” Aomine wraps an arm around Kuroko’s shoulders, and squeezes, taking pleasure in just being able to do even that again after so long, breathing in the scent of sweat and vanilla. “I dunno, I bet Akashi’s gonna chicken out. Think he’s still a virgin? Bet you he is.”

 

"Akashi-kun is absolutely a virgin. Midorima-kun has confirmed this, which is questionable at best, but in this, I'll allow that he probably knows the truth." Kuroko turns his head, shoving his face uncaringly into Aomine's side, mostly his armpit, and settles there for the time being. "I'm not jealous, but I am annoyed. Mostly because it's Akashi-kun, I think."

 

“You’re jealous,” Aomine says without rancor. “So what? He’s jealous, might as well give him that. Plus, Akashi’s probably just doing it to piss you off after you beat him. I get that.” The elevator dings finally at the eighth floor, and he tugs Kuroko down the hallway. “If Dad isn’t home by now he’s spending the night at the office. Mom never gets home before ten. Do most of your screaming before then, yeah?”

 

"I'm trying not to be jealous," Kuroko mutters, then exhales a soft sigh, shrugging it off. If Aomine isn't batting an eye, then he won't right now, either. "Aomine-kun, I'm never very loud to begin with." 

 

Aomine raises an eyebrow, pulling out his key with his left hand, filling the right with Kuroko’s ass. “You say that now. You saying I can’t make you scream?” 

 

He unlocks the apartment, flicking the lights on with his elbow, grabbing at Kuroko the second most of his body is inside the door. Kuroko’s toes probably aren’t touching the ground, but he can’t bring himself to care right now, not with the way he’s got Kuroko shoved up against one wall, hands diving under a winter coat, gripping soft flesh and hard muscle. “I’ll take that challenge,” he promises, and attacks Kuroko’s mouth like a starving man possessed.

 

Any _sore spots_ that he might have regarding Aomine Daiki disappear as if they've been burned up and turned to ash, and Kuroko _does_ love that particular ability of Aomine's kisses. 

 

Kuroko groans, arching off the wall, his hands grabbing and clinging for Aomine's hair and neck and shoulders as he sucks on the tongue that shoves its way past his lips. His legs tremble before his thighs clamp against Aomine's waist, because there's no such thing as too eager in moments like this. "I'm…not saying that," he mumbles breathlessly. "Aomine-kun--I've _really_ missed you."

 

Aomine leans back for the briefest moment, cupping Kuroko’s face in one huge hand, eyes flicking over his mouth, eyes, nose, cheeks, hair. When he speaks, his voice is lower and rougher than usual, abraded by emotions he’s long held in check and isn’t going to let out now. “I miss the way you grab at me like I’m the only thing that matters,” he husks, and covers Kuroko’s mouth with his own again, thorough and hot, tongue sliding in as if it’s meant to be there.

 

_So why did you ever leave?_

 

It would be a stupid, pointless thing to ask--thoughtlessly petty that it even comes to mind--and so Kuroko doesn't say it. Clinging to Aomine's neck to haul him in is a much better choice, especially when it means more, deeper kisses, all tongue and lips that know his own so well that it makes something in his chest ache with each raggedly drawn breath. 

 

"Aomine-kun," he breathes, his teeth catching against Aomine's lower lip. "How long do you want me to stay?" 

 

 _Forever_.

 

Aomine bites that down, muttering, “Not the embarrassing thing I was about to say, shit,” and nuzzling into Kuroko’s ear, nibbling and sucking on the lobe. “Long enough that I can take my time with you, huh?” he says instead, noticing how much heavier Kuroko is than last time, but how much easier to pick up courtesy of his own larger frame and muscles.

 

"You can say something embarrassing, if you want." Kuroko shivers before he shoves his face into the side of Aomine's neck, shoving his jacket's collar aside to properly sink his teeth into the skin there. Aomine smells _good_ , not courtesy of any weird cologne or anything, but like clean sweat and skin and like he's dripping in enough pheromones to kill a man. Perfect, really. "I won't tell, especially because I like it when you take your time with me."

 

It isn’t like Aomine hasn’t dreamed about this, gotten off to it, obsessed about it for the better part of two years. His hand tangles in Kuroko’s hair, yanking him close, holding him with all his strength for a second before finally pulling back. The separation doesn’t last long, and he simply tosses Kuroko over one shoulder, heading for his room. “You better hope you’re still in shape for this, Tetsu. I’m not gonna let you leave without a serious workout.”

 

"I'm in the best shape of my life," Kuroko dazedly says, flopping there limply over Aomine's shoulder and taking that opportunity to slowly knead a hand into his ass. Very nice. "I beat you, and Midorima-kun, and Kise-kun, and Murasakibara-kun, and Akashi-kun…"

 

Aomine tosses him onto the futon with more vigor than absolutely necessary, standing over him and shucking his shirt. He locks the door, then drags a dresser in front of it (because _fuck you, dad_ ), and folds his arms. “I was talking about your ass, but good to know you’re still a little shit who deserves all you get.”

 

Kuroko hits the futon with a muffled grunt, and flops over onto his back, staring up at Aomine for only a second before reaching out a hand, his fingers curling in a slow grabbing motion. "You can't take your shirt off and then stand all the way over there, Aomine-kun."

 

Aomine straddles Kuroko’s hips, then settles down onto his knees, keeping his weight on his legs as he sits on top of Kuroko without crushing him. He reaches out and grabs one hand, bringing it to his own neck, then sliding it down his chest to his abdomen. “You wanna touch? Just don’t get all nipply, that was weird.” It had been only once, but _memorable_.

 

"It's not my fault that Aomine-kun has such nice nipples." Kuroko sighs out a breath from his nose, his other hand joining the first to properly splay out over Aomine's chest before dragging down, thumbing over each hard line of muscle. He can feel the shift of sinew and taut skin underneath his fingertips, and that alone is enough to make him squirm underneath the other boy, gnawing slowly on his lower lip. "Aomine-kun looks like a god," he mutters distractedly, too enamored to even bother reeling it in because _Aomine-kun's ego is already horrible._

 

Aomine sighs, reaching his hands back to caress Kuroko’s thighs, squeezing and rubbing through soft denim. “Good. Because when I get done with you...” He has to pause for a moment to put the words together in a badass way, because he can’t fuck this up and say it in a lame way. He leans forward, until his lips are bare inches from Kuroko’s ear. “You’re gonna feel like a god had his way with you.” _Got it._

 

The noise that leaves Kuroko's mouth is breathless and strangled, and he twists up to immediately get his lips on Aomine's again, his kisses slow and hungry when his fingers dig in. Apparently, Aomine's voice still has the same effect on him behind closed doors. It's low and throaty and feels like he's rubbing his face against velvet, and so Kuroko can't _stop_ shivering whenever he talks. Rude. "Do it slow the first time?" he suggests against Aomine's mouth. "Hard. But slow. Aomine-kun, you're not fair, I don't even have to _see_ to know you're really hot when I'm touching you like this." 

 

“Why wouldn’t you look at me?” Aomine asks with a smirk. He draws back, spreading his arms. “I’m gorgeous. See?” He grabs a shoe from nearby and chucks it at the light switch, turning it on and bathing the room in fluorescent illumination. He stands, only long enough to kick off his shorts, and strips Kuroko’s off in quick measure. “Shirt, too. Feels like you put on muscle. Wanna see it.”

 

"It was a compliment that your hotness is transcendent even just through touch," Kuroko complains, tugging his shirt off and over his head without complaint. "I'm stroking your ego. You've been good, so you deserve it for five seconds."

 

Aomine chuckles, then settles back onto the futon, picking Kuroko up and settling him on his lap. “Rather you stroke something else. Loop your arms around my neck. Uh, I have lotion and condoms...you get weird if I use them both at the same time, right?” It’s been so long since they’ve done this, he can hardly remember what the protocol was.

 

Kuroko nods, and promptly does as he's told, his arms content to cling to Aomine's neck and stay there. "Pick one. Or it gets too…" His eyes narrow. "Gloopy. And I hate that. Aomine-kun, you know the noises freak me out."

 

“You _know_ I’m gonna pick the lotion,” Aomine teases. “Tetsu, you’re just a pervert who likes my jizz dripping out of your ass.”

 

Not that he’s complaining. He grabs the lotion, a well-worn pump-action bottle, and hands it over, leaning back onto his hands. “Finger yourself. Lemme see how tight you got when I wasn’t there to open you up.”

 

Kuroko would like to matter-of-factly point out that he _has_ been having sex since Aomine disappeared from his life, but--that's moot, when Aomine can say at least half a dozen lewd things all at once and make it sound good, and not gross. "I'm fairly certain this is proof that Aomine-kun is the pervert," he says, even as he dribbles the lotion all over his own fingers. "After this, it's a requirement that you get back to spoiling me." 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Aomine only listens halfway, zeroing in on the way Kuroko’s fingers make their way back, following that path he used to know so well. It’s not like it’s the first time they’ve done this, but it _is_ the first time in a while. “Tell me about his dick,” he murmurs, eyes locked on Kuroko’s fingertips, his own cock starting to swell.

 

Kuroko would mind more if he weren't in Aomine's lap for the first time in a good, long while, and if Aomine's attention wasn't so _very_ much on him. "It's…very nice," he says, exhaling a breath at the first touch of one finger to his hole. His other hand grabs at Aomine's shoulder, steadying himself when he presses it inside in a long, slow slide, his breath hitching hard. "Not as long as yours--but thicker, kind of…it's the head that's the real problem…"

 

“If it’s that thick, you shouldn’t have any trouble.” Aomine’s eyes dilate when Kuroko’s fingers dip inside, and his hands come up to tighten on his hips, holding him while still letting him move. “I just wanna watch you get ready like this.” He leans up, nuzzling into Kuroko’s neck, taking little nibbles of the delicate flavor under strong skin. He almost asks which dick feels better in him--but that’s not really in the spirit of sharing that Kuroko’s so gung-ho about, is it?

 

"Aomine-kun is _lazy_ ," Kuroko groans, letting his head loll to the side, and briefly gritting his teeth as he wriggles a second finger inside. The angle isn't perfect, he's never quite as gung-ho about doing it himself…but Aomine's hands are on him, his mouth is on his neck, and that, along with the _promise_ of Aomine being inside of him already has his cock dripping when he twists his wrist enough to push his fingers in _deep_. Kuroko flops forward a little, his nails biting into the skin of Aomine's shoulder. "Your fingers are bigger," he mutters. "Next time, you can do it." 

 

“Yeah. I don’t want you to get _too_ ready.” Aomine leans up, dragging his tongue over the shell of Kuroko’s ear, then bending to kiss him with just a hint of teeth. “I want you to feel it when I get in you, Tetsu. Take them out.”

 

He’s ready as hell, and even if it pisses him off, there’s something he has to do because he’s trying to be a good guy these days. “I always use condoms with everyone else, by the way. I just do this with you.”

 

Kuroko's sigh of relief is for several different reasons, though it has a _lot_ to do with finally getting a piece of Aomine's dick after so long. "Good boy," he says, _very_ sweetly, and a generous amount of lotion ends up in his palm before he wraps his fingers around Aomine's cock instead, slicking it with slow, but no less eager squeezes and strokes. "It's better without a condom, anyway," he murmurs. "Aomine-kun always gets so hard, and you feel so warm right here…"

 

Aomine’s cock starts leaking profusely, and he curses under his breath, knocking Kuroko’s hands away. “Quit trying to get me going so hard you make me come too fast,” he mutters. It’s not the first time Kuroko has tried to rile him up like that, stroking and teasing or clenching down way too hard, just to raise an eyebrow at him the second he came. His voice drops when the head of his cock rubs against that hot tight hole, and he mutters, “Besides. I’m _way_ better at sex now,” before pushing slowly inside.

 

"Uh… _huh_ ," is the breathy, broken reply that Kuroko offers up with that first push into him. His hands cling and dig into Aomine's shoulders, his nails leaving half-moons in Aomine's flesh as his back arches, and--god, that feels _right_. 

 

Kuroko doesn't know if it's the fact that Aomine has 'gotten better', or he's gotten more used to this, or it's just _Aomine_. Whatever the case may be, that long, slick push inside doesn't hurt. It aches, but it makes his eyes glaze and his brow knit together, his thighs trembling from the effort he puts into trying to stay up onto his knees. It doesn't last. Even if he's in better shape, stress and arousal makes it pretty easy to give up, and he sinks down with a groan, his mouth falling open when their skin slaps together entirely and Aomine's fully _inside_. "Aomine-kun," Kuroko rasps, his voice full of approval as he slumps into that broad chest, his teeth nipping hard against his throat. 

 

Aomine huffs out a laugh, taking Kuroko into his arms with the ease that he’d lift a baby bird, cradling him to his chest as he rocks up into him. Slow, but hard, sliding all the way in with a hiss, holding as deep as he can and grinding _up_ , then sliding out with a low groan. Being able to smell Kuroko’s dumb dandruff shampoo and dry hand lotion while he does this is the best part, better than the slick tight heat squeezing his cock, better than Kuroko’s arms around his neck, better than everything when he rocks up with each urgent motion. “Just hold on for the ride, Tetsu. I’ll get it real good, don’t you worry.”

 

Kuroko doesn't have much of a choice but to nod, his hands pawing and grasping mindlessly until they settle around the back of Aomine's neck, sometimes kneading, sometimes grabbing up into his hair. "Aomine-kun…always does this perfectly," he mumbles, the arch of his back making it easy to let his cock drag and rub against Aomine's stomach every time that he's pulled and lifted. It's just not fair; Aomine's cock presses in so deep that even the muscles in his calves and feet twinge, and he has no option but to let his teeth sink into the curve of one perfect shoulder, into that long neck, leaving marks all over dark skin.

 

 _Always so goddamn bitey,_ Aomine thinks in mild annoyance, though it’s hard to be less than pleased with anything Kuroko is doing right now with the way he sinks down with a soft, broken sigh, grinding down onto his cock. “You’re the perfect one,” he mumbles, glad he can’t see Kuroko’s face right now. It’s the kind of thing he only says during sex, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lie. It’s the time when he’ll tell a girl he loves her--because just then, buried deep to the hilt, he _does_. 

 

The difference is, with Kuroko, that feeling doesn’t go away after they’re done fucking.

 

He rocks up into Kuroko’s ass, fucking into him with easy deep strokes, filling him as far as he can with every thrust. He fills his hands with Kuroko’s fantastic ass, squeezing hard enough to leave deep blue fingerprints tomorrow, considering it a signature in kind in response to the bites on his neck. “You good?” he asks breathily, nuzzling against Kuroko’s sweat-damp hair.

 

The sound Kuroko makes proves that _everything_ is good--low and breathy and catching up in his throat when he groans against Aomine's shoulder and bites down again. "Mmhmmn," is his muttered response, his voice hiccuping again when he squirms down, just enough to feel that extra bit of friction, enough to press down into Aomine's hands and feel the way his fingers dig into his flesh. "It feels so…so good when you're in really deep, Aomine-kun," Kuroko rasps, absently reaching a hand back, his fingers sliding down low just to feel where they're connected. It makes him whine and makes his face flush hot, and he rubs his cheek against Aomine's shoulder, as if that'll make his skin less red. 

 

Aomine rumbles deep in his chest, flexing powerful muscles to drive him in deeper, until there’s no space at all between him and Kuroko and the widest part of his cock is stretching that slick hole wide. “You love being full of cock,” he murmurs, grinding his hips up in tight, shallow circles. “This is enough for you, right? You got so much you can’t stand it? You like that big cock, I know it.”

 

The urgency in his body compels him on more, faster, and he bucks up, a few swift hard thrusts into Kuroko’s pliant body, hearing the slap of skin on skin, knowing Kuroko’s ass will be red in more than one way.

 

Most of Aomine's words don't even connect with Cherokees' brain. It's more the deep rumble of his voice that makes his cock harder than anything, the way he keeps talking even when he shoves up in hard, and Kuroko gasps and groans, and gets both hands back against Aomine's shoulders to cling for dear life. 

 

What he _does_ know is that he _loves this_ , every filthy, perfect second of it. He's so hard that his cock drips a steady stream against Aomine's stomach, and even just the slightest lurch forward to rub it against that perfect skin makes him whimper. "Hh..nn, Aomine-kun," Kuroko hears himself start to beg before he even processes it, the singular lurch up to get his teeth on Aomine's ear making every muscle twitch and spasm and shake. "P…please, help--" 

 

It’s no work for Aomine to wrap his arms around Kuroko, holding him easily as he thrusts in, rocking up to hit what he knows is the perfect spot every time. Kuroko likes it when he takes care of him, likes it when he holds him and does what he wants, likes it when he _talks_. 

 

“You look so good with me in you, Tetsu,” he murmurs, getting Kuroko’s arms properly around his neck, not letting him slip. “Giving you--so much you can’t even _take_ it all, where you’re _meant_ to be, right here, I got you, gimme everything--”

 

Maybe he’s stopped making sense a long time ago, but when they’re like this, it doesn’t even seem to matter.

 

Dimly, Kuroko thinks that he should maybe feel somewhat more embarrassed that he's all melted, trembling limbs and barely even able to cling anymore, but with Aomine, he doesn't have to care. 

 

Clinging to Aomine's neck takes the last bit of strength he has, especially when he's overstimulated enough to start seeing double. His breath hiccups every time Aomine's cock slides _deep_ into him, and every exhale turns more ragged around the edges each time. 

 

Not thinking allows for a number of other slips--" _Daiki"_ , namely, breathless and rasped out when he comes, all in long-drawn-out spasms that border on pain. Kuroko groans, mouthing and biting at Aomine's neck, unable to help himself with each twitch of muscle that leaves him even more overwhelmed.

 

Aomine’s mind blanks out, and he can’t even mind. 

 

Maybe later he’ll pretend like it’s the way Kuroko’s biting at his neck. No, it’s the way he’s clamping down on his cock, that’s definitely what sets him off--or at least, that’s not embarrassing, so that’s what he’ll claim. It’s too fucking embarrassing to admit that it’s the way Kuroko breathes his name like it’s something precious, only the third time he’s used it, that makes him tense and shudder, filling Kuroko from the inside, hot and wet in thick hard pulses. “God, Tetsu...”

 

His arms might be too tight, but his hands are gentle when they finally still, thumbs making little circles on Kuroko’s hips when he stops moving, still buried deep inside. His head thunks forward, resting against Kuroko’s own sweat-damp forehead. “Was I...always that good at it?”

 

"No," comes Kuroko's immediate response, his skin still twitching underneath Aomine's fingertips, his thighs quivering every single time a still-melting muscle seems to dissolve anew. His own fingers curl against the sweaty, taut skin of Aomine's back, absently stroking. "Maybe," he murmurs, "you're just being _really_ good tonight, on purpose." 

 

Aomine tilts Kuroko’s head down, claiming his lips in a slow, soft kiss before pulling away. “Maybe you make me wanna be good, Tetsu.”

 

"Don't lie," Kuroko mildly chastises, flopping against Aomine's chest. "You would have been good a long time ago if that were the case. You _are_ being sweet, however." 

 

“Hey. I _was_ good a long time ago.” Aomine lays back, taking Kuroko with him to lay on his chest. “I’m just, like, fucking amazing now. No, wait, I was always fucking amazing. Now I’m...like a god.”

 

"Aomine-kun. I've stroked your ego too much tonight, I can tell." Kuroko shifts with a grimace, hissing out slowly as he wriggles off of Aomine's cock and tries to mostly ignore the sticky mess for now. "You can't start saying that just because I called you that once. Ah, you're warm, though…"

 

“Don’t leak jizz on me, gross,” Aomine complains, fumbling behind him for a few tissues. “You’re just lucky I’m not calling you out on your ulterior motives.”

 

"Please don't complain when you're the one that hates condoms most of all." Kuroko blinks up at him, innocently wide-eyed. "What ulterior motives?"

 

“You want a sandwich.”

 

"Yes. Ulterior implies I am not entirely blunt about this, but I am."

 

“It’s not gonna happen.” Aomine shrugs. “Why would I wanna touch some guy’s dick? I mean, he’s dumb if he doesn’t wanna touch mine, but...”

 

"You touch mine all the time," Kuroko mildly points out, slowly flopping to the side and nestling up against Aomine's hip. "Well, before. You know what I'm referring to. The point is, Kagami-kun absolutely would touch your dick, and it would be good."

 

“He’s not my type.” Aomine wraps an arm around Kuroko, the patterns he traces on Kuroko’s back attempting to alleviate some of the sting of his blunt words. “And he probably smells like dude. The only one allowed to smell like dude in my bed is me.”

 

Kuroko's eyebrows slowly climb. "Aomine-kun's type is 'girls with big boobs.' And yet…"

 

Aomine blinks. “And yet what?”

 

"In case you haven't noticed, I don't have big boobs. And I'm very much a boy." 

 

“Shut up, Tetsu. You’re different. Obviously.”

 

"So, then, Kise-kun…"

 

“....Kise doesn’t count.”

 

"Doesn't he? He also told me a few things about you. I think you would appreciate Kagami-kun." 

 

Aomine’s eyes narrow, and he pulls away just enough to look down at Kuroko. “Spill. He said what? I _definitely_ never said anything to him about that dumbass.”

 

Kuroko stares up at him, still nothing but wide eyes and mussed hair. "Don't worry, Aomine-kun. It's nothing that I didn't already know about you." 

 

Aomine crawls on top of Kuroko, pinning him down by the elbows. “Like?”

 

A single eyebrow ticks up in vague amusement, and Kuroko deadpans, "Like how you're…how did Kise-kun put it…a 'total cock slut'? Something like that." 

 

Aomine stares at him for a minute, trying to figure out if he’s lying. Those round, oblique eyes give nothing away, and he curses, rolling off and onto his back. “I’m gonna kill him next time I see him. Fuck, he’s one to _talk_ , I’m never gonna let him do that shit again.”

 

Kuroko whistles quietly. "So Aomine-kun really _was_ desperate. See, this is why a sandwich would be a very good thing." 

 

Aomine glares from under his lashes. “Did you ask him first? No--I get it. You’re doing _this_ first so that when you say, hey, baby, I wanna threesome because Aomine’s dick is the _shit_ , he’ll think it’s better than letting you fuck me all by yourself, right?”

 

Kuroko falls silent for a moment, clearly considering before he rolls slowly over, slinging a leg over Aomine's hips. "I don't care if we have a threesome," he honestly says, splaying his hands against Aomine's chest. "But I do want both of you. I'm greedy. A threesome would be fun, but it's not necessary." 

 

Aomine stretches out, wriggling his toes, letting his hands wander to Kuroko’s thighs. “Seeing who can handle the jealousy longer? Okay. I’ll play. And I’ll win.”

 

"Aomine-kun," Kuroko _patiently_ sighs out, his eyes lidding. "It's not a competition. I just like both of you. I haven't known him as long, but Kagami-kun is a good person, and you're still on probation. It all evens out."

 

_But you love me more._

 

Aomine, for once, bites his tongue. There’s time for that later. “Yeah. Okay. Just keep reminding me not to be such an asshole. I picked up a lot of bad habits.”

 

"I'm very aware. I don't like it. You need to be retrained." 

 

“Only you could make that sound so hot.” A thought occurs to him, too late. “Actually, Horikata Mai could pull that shit off, too. Only you could pull that off _without_ a black bra.”

 

Kuroko is predictably unfazed. "I will only pose for you like a porn star after you're well-behaved for a solid week." 

 

Aomine lets out a noise between a protest and a whimper. “....fine. But you better let me take video. I have plans.”

 

Kuroko's head tilts as he considers. "Fine. But only if you're polite to Kagami-kun in public situations." 

 

“Uh...I won’t call him a retarded fuckboy.”

 

"Good enough."


	3. Chapter 3

That evening, Akashi arrives back at the Tokyo branch of his estate, and immediately realizes he has made a grave mistake. 

 

A brief glance into the rearview mirror of the car is all it takes. Ah. Bad. Very bad. It's as low-brow as when Haizaki or Kise would roll their way into practice, smug and content with themselves, their necks smattered with little bites and hickeys. Akashi does _not_ want to be like that, and yet, here he is. 

 

Hiking up the collar of his coat would only do so much without being obvious. This was a Mistake, capital M, and his father _will_ notice, and ask questions. 

 

And _demand_ answers.

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Emergency**

**did not think this through. proper excuse for hickeys?? respond asap**

 

If anyone can help, it's Mibuchi. Akashi tells himself that as his fingers hold perhaps too tight to his phone. Midorima is a last resort, barely acceptable. Midorima would just tell him that this was _not_ Sagittarius's day. 

 

To say that Mibuchi Reo is prepared for this eventuality would be an understatement. He’s been kicking ideas around of the sort for months, though he’d thought it would be Nebuya or Hayama he’d have to bail out--but since that first breathy phone call that he hasn’t been able to forget, the nagging sensation that he’ll be needed as the _big sister_ has inspired him to make plans.

 

**To:** **♡** **Sei-chan** **♡**

**From: Reo-nee**

**Subject: Not to worry**

**Make a detour. Stop and see a prostitute. High class at Kameido 9-18-5, apt. 26. Name is Sacchan. V discreet. In my experience this is the highest probability of a “boys will be boys” lecture!!**

 

That is _not_ the response Akashi was expecting. Truth be told, he's not sure what he was expecting…but this? Least likely. His brow furrows as he clutches at his phone. 

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Are you serious**

**Define 'very discreet.' Admittedly I am already riding on high possibility for scandal but ?? this is a little…….**

 

**To:** **♡** **Sei-chan** **♡**

**From: Reo-nee**

**Subject: V Serious**

**You don’t have to do things w/her!! It’s better than that important person finding out about The Stuff. Also, so discreet that she burns her client lists regularly. Nee-san knows things.**

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: ………**

**All right. I'm going to trust you on this. Thank you.**

 

Akashi, _calmly_ insisting on a detour, does not think about this as a horrifying way to spend the evening. It's a way to stay safe and not found out about with all privileges intact. Yes. That's what it is. 

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Additionally**

**PLEASE be at the station when I come back to Kyoto. I find myself really disliking Tokyo, lately.**

 

…Ridiculously warm and oddly easy to be around power forwards notwithstanding. It's everyone (and everything) else that is the problem.

 

**To:** **♡** **Sei-chan** **♡**

**From: Reo-nee**

**Subject: of course**

**Text me when you’ll be arriving. Then you can stop being lonely forever** **♡♡♡**

 

Akashi survives. He prides himself on that. 

 

'Sacchan' is…well. She certainly is helpful. That's a word for the services she provides, or so Akashi learns about in detail, no matter how politely and often he declines. The point stands--she's an excellent alibi, and gives Akashi her card for 'future services.' Akashi promises to play shogi with her next time, because that is apparently a better way to pass the time. 

 

More surprising is how his father mostly just rolls his eyes, because Akashi settles for being blunt about his evening activities and why he was out for so long. Huh. If it were that easy to hide less than legitimate relationships, why wasn't he informed of this _before?_ Akashi feels somewhat cheated, but then again, perhaps his former teammates were not so well educated. Mibuchi _is_ older, after all… 

 

After another pair of days, stuffed full of annoying holiday cram school and zero contact from anyone that he considers good company, and Akashi finds himself back on a train to Kyoto.

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: An hour out**

 

That's it. He almost sends _Kidnap me already_ , but that's just pathetic, and it's only because he's tired and sick of subpar tofu that he considers it in the first place, anyway.

 

Mibuchi shifts from foot to foot on the Shinkansen platform, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together occasionally to warm them up. Akashi is, of course, worth it. He might be a little unbalanced, perhaps a little wrapped up in this rich boy complex of his...but worth it all the same. Clever, insightful, lovely, challenging, indomitable--that’s the Sei-chan he knows and loves.

 

He waves demurely when the train arrives, hurrying over to help with one enormous suitcase. “Sei-chan, you should let someone else lift these for you, your arms are far too valuable,” he admonishes. “Have you even been eating? Your face looks so thin, let’s go out for tofu.”

 

"Reo." 

 

It's shocking how much of a relief it is to see Mibuchi, and that's probably heard in Akashi's voice, plain as day, as he exhales the other boy's name. He reaches out, grasping at Mibuchi's sleeve, and stares up at him as he tugs. "Can you come with me for a second first? Just around the corner, there." _Where it's quiet, and no one is watching, please take the hint._  

 

Mibuchi’s eyes sparkle. “You know, I _do_ feel the need to freshen up a bit. Wasn’t there a men’s room around here?” There isn’t he knows there isn’t, and Akashi does too, but that doesn’t stop him from looking charmingly lost and leading Akashi behind a secluded corner. 

 

The second they’re out of sight, he turns, tilting up Akashi’s mouth and gracing the soft moue with a brush of his lips. It’s hard not to _hug_ him, but that feels undignified, and not like something Akashi would really appreciate anyway.

 

Akashi is the one that grabs and pulls and kisses hard. 

 

Vaguely public or not, he doesn't care. It's a relief, and especially in Kyoto's strange combination of cold and humidity, the urge to sort of cling to Mibuchi is a strong one. Eventually, he rocks back onto his heels, exhaling a soft breath, and releases the lapels of Mibuchi's coat. "This is already better than Tokyo," he says quietly. "Winter break is entirely unenjoyable." 

 

“Oh?” Mibuchi asks archly, reaching a thumb down to rub the pad of it over one fading bruise on Akashi’s neck. “Are we sure that _entirely unenjoyable_ is the phrase you’d like to commit to so thoroughly?”

 

Akashi's lips purse at the odd shiver that slides down his spine, and he half-heartedly bats Mibuchi's hand away. "That was the only acceptable part," he says matter-of-factly. "The rest you'll hear me complain about." 

 

Mibuchi’s arms go around Akashi’s torso instead, pulling him close despite his better judgment. “Ahh, complain to me all you like, I’m just glad you’re _home_ where I can spoil you again. Please bear with the hugging for just a moment, Sei-chan, Nee-chan has missed you so.”

 

"Why would I…" Ah. Right. It's a strange thought process to realize that he hasn't exactly been the _touchiest_ person for over a solid year, when before it was a somewhat common thing to at _least_ have Murasakibara asleep over his lap and expecting pettings. Akashi exhales a slow, even breath, shutting his eyes as he stuffs his face neatly into Mibuchi's shoulder. "I don't…mind when you hug me." 

 

Mibuchi lets out a high-pitched whine, and crushes Akashi a little tighter. “Sorry, sorry, Nee-chan got too excited. Ahh, I’m just glad you’re _home_ , what do you want to do first? Was your dad awfully horrid?”

 

"He was fine, I suppose," Akashi wheezes, up on his tiptoes courtesy of Mibuchi's squeezing. "He didn't say much about that one night, thanks to your, ah--advice. How did you even have her _address?_ Can we just go back to the dorms and talk, I'd rather eat cup noodles than sit out in this cold."

 

“I never talk about the noted lady in public,” Mibuchi says demurely. “I’ll cook you all the awful cup noodles you want, and we can talk about it.”

 

Fortunately, Rakuzan’s dorms are incredibly close by train, and it’s only twenty minutes or so before he’s flipping on an electric kettle, then settling onto the bed. “Seriously, though, your father didn’t give you much trouble? Nee-chan does worry.”

 

Mibuchi's dorm is somehow warmer than his own, and Akashi appreciates that. He folds himself up neatly onto the bed next to the other boy, his phone in his lap but mostly ignored, because he _knows_ no one has looked at a single one of his shared online shogi games. That's how winter break is, and he finds that distasteful, especially on Midorima's part. "He was…fairly standard."

 

That should sum it up, but Mibuchi tends to want more explanation as a general rule. Akashi doesn't mind that, but it's not always easy to put into words. "I just told him outright that I had been with her. He lectured me, of course, but he barely seemed fazed…I was not aware it was _so_ easy to cover up relationships with women like her." 

 

“Parents like yours don’t want any escapades with _people_ known,” Mibuchi says sagely. “Women like Sacchan don’t count as people to men like that. They won’t bring lawsuits, and they won’t produce babies unless they’re stupid--and even then, they’re easy to pay off. Men like him just don’t want your _feelings_ getting in the way. Was she nice to you?”

 

"…She suggested that we could play shogi the next time, if I needed her again. So, yes." Akashi frowns. "I still thought my father would be more concerned. I suppose I shouldn't overuse her presence, but it was glossed over _so_ quickly--more importantly," he suddenly remembers, rounding on Mibuchi. "How did you know of her?" 

 

Mibuchi laughs, a delicate, tinkling sound as the kettle whistles, and he fills up the noodle cup. “She’s practically a fixture at my home. Went to primary school with my mom’s littlest brother, you know. That’s how I know she’ll keep anything behind her teeth.”

 

"Your family _does_ have a history of associating with the geisha community," Akashi absently notes, unable to stop himself from pulling up the research that he most certainly still has stored on his phone about it. That had been a wild night. "I suppose that's close to the same thing in this day and age…" 

 

Mibuchi hardly blinks. “Ah, so you found out about my great-grandmother? I met her before she died, you know,” he says with great interest, tearing off the top of the Cup Noodles and placing it and a pair of chopsticks before Akashi. “She had _so_ many stories to tell. Ah...if only it were as easy as it used to be for a man to become a geisha. I think I’d be charming, don’t you?”

 

Akashi blinks up at him as he tucks his phone away again. "You'd be very beautiful," he says without any hesitation, picking up his chopsticks. "But very tall. That can be discouraging for some. Thank you for the food." 

 

“Eat up, eat up.” Mibuchi folds up on the bed again, hands smoothing through his hair. “You want me to read or something until you’re done? I know you don’t like talking when you’re eating.”

 

A firm shake of Akashi's head follows. "This will be gone shortly, I've been denied for the entirety of vacation," he crossly mutters, and sure enough, the first deft scoop of his chopsticks is probably about a third of those noodles. "I'm beginning to find the Tokyo branch of my house very distasteful, which is not a good thing." 

 

“Poor baby. Did they force you to eat fresh fruits and vegetables all day every day?” Mibuchi’s voice is honestly sympathetic. The Cup Noodles is _his_ , after all.

 

"Balanced meals at all times. My father _knows_ I have aversions and he doesn't care. I think it's gotten worse since I've been away." Akashi blames Mibuchi for this, somewhat. He _does_ tend to cater to his eating habits more so than anyone else has ever cared to. "I can live off of tofu," he glumly mutters. " _Happily_." 

 

“I know. I’ve seen you.” Mibuchi leans over, resting his head on Akashi’s shoulder with more glee than he probably should. “No one spoils my Sei-chan like I do.”

 

The rest of the noodles are gone in less than a minute. Akashi could be more proud of that, but whatever. Craving satisfied, he sets the cup aside, and promptly turns his head to gently butt it against Mibuchi's. "Can I complain about my former teammates? And how I would much rather have just stayed in Kyoto." He feels like a broken record regarding that, but he feels _very strongly_ about it.

 

“Your game wasn’t fun?” Mibuchi nuzzles behind Akashi’s hair, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to give him some kind of support (even if he probably doesn’t know what to do with it). “I was hoping you’d have at least one good day.”

 

"Atsushi is still upset with me and it's obvious. Shintarou is so busy with his…friend that the idea of even addressing our shogi game that has been going on for a solid two years now was out of the question. Ryouta doesn't care or is terrified perpetually, and Tetsuya and Daiki are a unit, as always." Akashi knows one thing, and it's that Mibuchi is surprisingly comfortable nestle up against. He allows himself to slouch somewhat underneath that arm, heaving a sigh. "I expected it. But…" 

 

“But it’s still no fun,” Mibuchi says understandingly, giving a little squeeze. “Are they just being idiots, or are they still...you know, mad? About everything?”

 

"Mad, I think. I can't fault them for that." Truthfully, he had been prepared to give a proper apology. Not being able to deliver it to an audience that was actually paying attention to it, however…that had been something of a blow. "It will all be resolved eventually, I think," Akashi mutters, and glances up to catch Mibuchi's eye before carefully adding, "At least Kagami Taiga was entertaining." 

 

“So I hear. Dreadfully jealous, you know.” Mibuchi reclines gracefully back on his bed, kicking out his legs behind Akashi’s back. “Was your first time everything you dreamed it would be? Minus my lovely face, of course.”

 

"Ah, so you are jealous. But not angry," Akashi notes, turning slightly to still watch Mibuchi. "It was…fine. I would have rather it been you." 

 

Mibuchi reaches a hand up, running a finger lightly down one exceedingly pale arm. “It’s probably better it wasn’t. That’s a lot of pressure, you know? I probably would have been too careful with you, and you would have been frustrated.”

 

"…Probably," Akashi allows, briefly shutting his eyes before he shifts, neatly folding himself into seiza at Mibuchi's side, and takes hold of that long-fingered hand, his own thumb drawing itself slowly over Mibuchi's palm. "I _do_ know what I want. I've never quite understood why you just can't…do it. Is it seriously just because you're older than me?" 

 

“I can do it,” Mibuchi says, mildly affronted. “But I’d rather not _just_ do it, Sei-chan. I don’t just want you for sex. I want a lot more than that, don’t you?” It’s one of the worries he’s had for quite a while now, and eye color change or no change, it doesn’t look like the problem is going anywhere soon.

 

"I…thought that was obvious?" Was it not? Sometimes, people like Mibuchi are frustrating. Connecting on their emotional level when his own has _always_ been more subdued proves more difficult on every occasion. Akashi's brow furrows. "But sex should ideally still be part of it." 

 

“Well. Sure.” Mibuchi shifts on the bed, making room next to him for Akashi to occupy, if he should so choose. “But it’s not something you should go into a relationship demanding, Sei-chan. That’s crass. It makes me think the only thing you care about is between my legs.”

 

"Well--it's not. I'm just trying to make my needs clear." Crass. _Hardly._ That's just offensive to think about. Akashi heaves a sigh, and slowly unfolds himself to stretch out next to Mibuchi. "I think," he slowly says, "that I am mostly frustrated because when I say that I want you, and nothing comes of it, it seems as if I've done something incorrect." 

 

“Sei-chan...there are certain things that you have to let take _time_.” Mibuchi reaches a hand out, caressing that soft hair that is thankfully growing out from its previous impetuous cut. “Local trains get where they’re going the same as the bullet train. They just know there are important places between, as well.”

 

Akashi frowns at him, but butts his head up into that touch all the same. "You're graduating in little over a year," he quietly points out. "I'm trying to make good use of this time. Local trains aren't good for that." 

 

Mibuchi blinks. “How slow do you think this local train goes? If we’re going to be a _couple_ , we won’t hit the end of the tracks when I go to college.”

 

"We'll see _much_ less of one another, though. And it'll be harder…I'm just trying to plan, somewhat." He sounds decidedly grumpy about it. "Reo, I wouldn't worry about this for just anyone, please try to be a little cooperative." 

 

Mibuchi turns, burying his face in Akashi’s hair, wrapping him up in long limbs to pull him close. “You’re extra-special to me, too, you know. That’s...the problem, I think? I don’t want to make a mistake with someone as precious as you. But it’s _not_ good manners to demand sex before you’ve even had a single proper date.”

 

" _Haven't_ we had a proper date?" Akashi mumbles, crossly wondering how much he's been missing, misconstruing, or otherwise. He huddles up against Mibuchi, curling his own hands against his back. "We go out to eat all the time, and spend time here, just the two of us. This is annoying," he huffs. "I dislike doing this incorrectly, you need to give me an outline." 

 

“I’m not going to do that, Sei-chan. Seriously...” 

 

Mibuchi strokes a hand down one shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to one temple. “There’s no blueprint for this kind of thing, we just do what feels right. To _both_ of us, which means if one of us thinks it’s moving too fast, we can ask to slow down, okay? I’m still your sempai, and you’re still my captain, so we both have a lot of tricky situations to monitor.”

 

Akashi blinks up at him, and says, without a single moment's hesitation, "I've been accused of favoritism to those that I am particularly fond of in the past and have no issues repeating this, so I don't think my being your captain is a tricky situation. Just. For the record."

 

Mibuchi laughs. “I find it flattering that you think the only situations we might run into consist of you being too nice to me. If we break up, are you going to kick me off the team? If someone is better than me, are you going to put them on and kick me off? You should, as captain.”

 

"I had a falling out with my closest friend, and I didn't kick them off the team. And in the unlikely event that I find a shooting guard better than you, I'd discuss it with you first." This part he can do, that Akashi is _certain_ of. 

 

“I’m not _asking_ you to come up with solutions to problems that don’t even exist yet,” Mibuchi sighs. “I’m _saying_ that there’s potential for advantage to be taken, and given, and we need to be careful. Part of that is not rushing _in_ to anything before we’re ready.”

 

A look of vague irritation crosses over Akashi's face. "Am I wrong in assuming there's an insinuation that I'm not ready? Because I am, and I know for a fact that you've had past relationships, so I'm not sure why there would be any _continued_ hesitation on your part…"

 

Mibuchi lets out a frustrated noise and gives Akashi’s hand a squeeze before turning his head so they’re face to face. “You’re not a sealed envelope that’s been opened. Neither am I. It’s not _hesitation_. I don’t particularly want to have this conversation twenty _more_ times, either. I’m not saying I’m going to make you wait forever, just that we shouldn’t just...rush into it. Wait until you’re...overcome, because you can’t stop thinking about how good my body will feel on yours, until your breath catches because we’re dancing or playing a game or just...even just walking together with our hands brushing slightly, but this time it’s _electric_.”

 

He catches his breath, feeling a pang in his chest, that no one should need to have this kind of think explained to him, and hating Akashi’s father not for the first time. “When you feel like you’ll die if you don’t have me, Sei-chan, it’ll be so beautiful when we give in.”

 

 _But I've felt like that before, and you wouldn't do anything about it._ Maybe that was his mistake. Maybe he didn't vocalize it properly, and that's why they're here now. Akashi doesn't want the thought of _This Was Easier With Kagami Taiga_ , but it invades his brain all the same, and makes him cringe at how _base_ it all is, just a little. Yet again, he has hit a frustrating wall of his own doing. 

 

Failure sucks. Akashi knows he is probably sulking visibly about it, but he can't change that. "…All right," he murmurs, his head knocking back down against the bed. "If you say so." 

 

~

 

Modern Japanese History isn’t exactly Mibuchi’s favorite subject. He vastly prefers the classics, literature weighing in above all others, and only manages to drag himself through this one with the promise that next he can have a break and a book. Of course, he’s running a bit low on reading material, so it wouldn’t be _too_ bad if he did a bit of shopping today...that definitely doesn’t break his shopping ban, does it? No, it’s fine.

 

“...twenty members of the current Imperial family. That is to say, who can tell me how many princesses have not currently abdicated? Koike?”

 

“T-ten, sir?”

 

“Eleven, including Her Highness Hisohito of Akishino.”

 

_Heh. Almost sounds like Sei-chan’s name._

 

“Which leaves the line of succession a narrow one indeed. If you’ll turn to the family tree on page 214 of your textbooks, you’ll see that...”

 

Mibuchi’s eyes widen, and zero in on a line he hadn’t noticed, with some _very_ familiar kanji. No...Sei-chan is rich, Sei-chan’s family is important, but...this? It can’t be.

 

“How does this conflict with the current issues of the failing younger class, Kirishino?”

 

“Uhh...”

 

Mibuchi doesn’t hear anymore. He makes his way back to his room in a daze, forgetting his book, and sits heavily on the bed with the family tree clutched in his hands. _Did he tell me after all? Was I just not paying attention?_

 

"Yoooo, Reo-nee! What are you doing for lunch!" Hayama never knocks. That is his signature. It's especially his signature in moments like these, when Mibuchi doesn't even flinch when he throws the door to his dorm room open. "Ei-chan got us the usual spot, no one's muscling in on him, haha, get it……….hey, are you okay? You're making a face. Is it because I didn't say that Akashi's gonna be there, because he is, and _not_ Mayuzumi." 

 

Mibuchi flutters a hand in Hayama’s direction--harmless, but way too much to deal with right now, when he’s so Distraught. “I’m taking the day off of lunch. Religious fasting, if you will. Give Sei-chan my apologies?” Hell, if he’s right about this, he should be kowtowing for missing anything like an appointment.

 

"Okay, if you say so!" Mibuchi is _weird_ some days, but whatever, this should be fine. 

 

What Rakuzan's Uncrowned Kings have yet to consistently bargain for is the wrath of Akashi Seijuurou, minus one gold eye, gained a red anew. Hayama dubs this 'Mom-mode', although he is pretty sure their team already had that in Reo-nee. Nebuya dubs it 'weird, really weird and cute', but neither of these naming schemes stop Akashi from bringing Mibuchi's missed meal up to his dorm room, neatly packaged. He, unlike Hayama, knocks politely before still opening the door and poking his head inside. "Reo, you can't skip meals if our practices are going to continue at the same level as before."

 

Mibuchi tries to be casual. Really, he does. It’s only that he sits up straighter, and does give a bit of a bow before he can stop himself. “Ah...sorry about it, Sei-chan. I just made a wish at the shrine this morning, and I’m proving myself before it’ll come true. Did you eat, at least?”

 

The look that Akashi gives him is suspicious, at best. He steps inside, setting down Mibuchi's packaged lunch, and shuts the door behind himself. "…Yes, I did. Did you just bow, and why?" 

 

Is there any use in trying to keep secrets from Akashi? Probably not. Mibuchi sighs, and tosses open his Current Events book to the family tree. “The one I highlighted. That’s your formal name and rank, isn’t it?”

 

Something goes cold in the pit of his stomach, and Akashi briefly wonders if he's going to lose his lunch. It's a very stupid, visceral reaction. He hates it. He doesn't even have to look at the book to know, but he does on principle. "Yes. And?" 

 

“And...I don’t know.” Mibuchi swallows, and closes the book. It seems to be staring at him, even like this. “It changes things. Which is why you didn’t tell me, I’m sure.”

 

"It doesn't have to." _But it does._ Mibuchi isn't wrong, and he isn't stupid, and that's why Akashi values his company. In moments like this, though… "This doesn't have to change anything," he says, _calmly_ , no matter how his pulse starts that dull, awful thudding into one of his temples. "Actually--it would be easier, if you just…forgot about it."

 

“It would...for now. Right?” Mibuchi says softly. He draws up into seiza, trying to keep his throat from closing when he’s so honestly, truly heartbroken. He laughs at himself a little, for being so invested already that he’s planned all of this out. “You’re going to think I’m stupid. I had _all_ of this planned.”

 

Right, the calm is slipping away into steadily increasing degrees of panic. Akashi draws in a slow, deep breath, and flops down less gracefully than he would like, but arranges himself in front of Mibuchi quickly enough. "I do not think you're stupid," he firmly says. "I--…I'm not sure what you had planned, exactly? But nothing has to change about that, or anything. Reo, I'm not exactly the immediate heir or even close to it."

 

“I,” Mibuchi says quietly, brushing his hair back from his face and tucking it behind his ears, “was hoping that one day, you’d learn to live without your father’s influence. And I thought that we could do things like--like live quietly together without worrying. Like go on vacations and not have to pretend we were just friends. And just...be normal, together. But...that isn’t going to happen, is it? Ever?”

 

Akashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again, rocking slowly back. "…We can be normal together. This is normal, isn't it?" Hopefully, his nerves aren't creeping into his voice too much, not yet. "I'm…you know we wouldn't be able to live together from the start. I have a fiancé. I told you that."

 

“I _thought_ you were going to get over that,” Mibuchi says with a sad smile. “That you were going to realize you weren’t ever going to be happy, and you’d...leave. I didn’t know you were part of the royal damn _family_ , Sei-chan! That means--they’re always going to be watching, aren’t they? And you’re _never_ going to be able to leave?”

 

"It's not like I have people _spying on me_ ," Akashi says, bristling at the very thought. "I live a fairly private life, and you know that. I--just because I'm part of the royal family doesn't mean I can't…do anything with you. Or be with you. Or anything like that. Obviously, I can't announce it to the whole of Japan, but why would _anyone_ do that about their relationship?"

 

“Because they’re in love?” That probably sounds stupid, but Mibuchi is past the point of caring that he sounds like the heroine in some dramatic fairytale. “Can’t you just...ugh.” He grabs Akashi’s hands, looking urgently into his eyes. “Tell me honestly that you think we could make it work--that you could abdicate, and we could go live somewhere--even overseas--and just be normal. I don’t want to be anyone’s dirty secret, you know? I...I _do_ have my pride, too.”

 

Akashi blinks up at him, wary and unsure, but slowly grabs back at Mibuchi's hands as he eventually, carefully says: "Abdicating requires going before the Imperial Council, and having a unanimous agreement amongst all of them that leaving the royal family is an acceptable choice. My father is a part of that council. Reo--you aren't my dirty secret," he hastily adds before Mibuchi can say anything else. "Just because--it's not like I don't tell anyone about you, I'm just _careful_ about who I tell, because that's common sense and I don't want you to get in trouble." 

 

That isn’t exactly the answer Mibuchi wants, and a tense, unhappy expression settles on his face. “That’s...kind of the definition of a dirty secret, Sei-chan. And that puts a _lot_ of pressure on me, too. You know I’m not exactly the world’s most private person about the things and people I love. I could slip up so easily, and...what would happen?”

 

"Nothing would happen to you. I wouldn't _let_ anything happen to you." How he's supposed to really promise that, Akashi doesn't know, but he'll figure that out later. "Reo, you're not stupid, you're not going to slip up. That's…and even if you did, I'd fix it." 

 

“And what would happen to you?” Akashi, Mibuchi is sure, wants him to forget all about this. He wants Mibuchi to go blissfully on, pretending everything is fine, pretending like he isn’t about to step on landmines for both of them at every turn, and god, when Akashi looks that sad...he really wishes he could. “The eighth in line for the throne, married, member of parliament--what happens to him when someone finds out about his illicit affair with a literature professor?”

 

"I…I don't know." _Not knowing_ , actually, is going to give him a panic attack. It's on a few different levels--the fact that he simply doesn't know, and the fact that he doesn't _want_ to think about it and figure it out. Akashi's fingers squeeze tighter around Mibuchi's. "But they won't find out, so it's…not important. Reo, please don't make me ask again for you to pretend you don't know." 

 

Slowly, without really wanting to, Mibuchi pulls his hands away, brushing a bit of moisture away from his face when his pesky eyes start watering. “I’m sorry, Sei-chan. I can’t do it. I can’t enable this kind of thing, and this isn’t what I want for me--and you know me better than to think I’d want something transient.”

 

Akashi lurches forward without thinking about it--which is horrific and stupid and _disgusting_ , because he hears Mibuchi saying that _he can't do it_ and he should just listen to that and let it drop. Instead, he's grabbing at the other boy's hand again, absolutely and unequivocally desperate, staring at the ground because he _can't_ look Mibuchi in the eyes. "Reo," he says, grateful that his voice isn't shaking yet, because it very well good be in the next few seconds, "you are the only thing I have here. I know how selfish that sounds, but--just until you graduate, maybe--"

 

“Sei-chan--you’re not going to _lose_ me.” God, how do normal people get through this kind of thing without crying? This is awful. Mibuchi’s eyes flutter, and he squeezes back, then leans forward and kisses Akashi’s forehead firmly. “We can still spend time together, and cuddle, and I’ll c-cook for you.” Curse that wobble in his voice. “I just--you can’t let me fall any farther in love with you when I’m just going to lose you, you _can’t_.”

 

"What makes you think you're going to lose _me?_ " It sounds petulant and Akashi _does_ hate that. Every part of this makes him furious, actually, and Akashi frowns harder, as if that'll make his hands stop shaking. "This isn't fair." 

 

“Sweetheart...this can’t be the first time someone has told you that life isn’t fair,” Mibuchi says gently, reaching out to caress Akashi’s face. “Ah...god, I had so many _plans_ for us. Nee-chan was being silly.”

 

"…I don't like not being able to fix it." Akashi finally slumps in resignation. "I'm…sorry. If I had told you--you wouldn't have even bothered, I'm assuming." It's not bitter. Mostly, it's tired. 

 

“You’re not something to bother over.” Mibuchi’s hand is gentle in Akashi’s hair, even as his voice quivers. “Just something...that I shouldn’t have been aspiring to. I’m not sure I could have stopped myself from falling for you, though.”

 

Akashi nods, stiffly, as if this sounds very, very acceptable (even if isn't, at all). "Then--" He draws back, climbing to his feet and wavering for a moment, as if he can't quite decide what to do before he just settles on bowing, neat and low at the waist. "I'm very sorry for wasting your time." 

 

Mibuchi's going to argue with him about that phrasing, Akashi knows it, and that's why he turns and hurries out before another word can be said. No matter how it's phrased, that is what he did, isn't it? Mibuchi's time, _everyone's_ time, every _single_ time. 

 

~

 

**To: Akashi**

**From: Koutarou**

**Subject: ???????**

**yoooooo?? you didn't come to practice r u ok reo-nee is FLIPPING OUT**

 

**To: Akashi**

**From: Nebuya**

**Subject: Hey**

**seriously mibuchi is flipping his shit what's going on**

 

**To: Akashi**

**From: Koutarou**

**Subject: ok but it's getting late**

**akaashhhhiiiii did you space out over tofu again, it's cute but NOT FUNNY when reo-nee is upset come on!**

 

Akashi sends one text, and one text only as he steps onto the train platform in the middle of Tokyo.

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Just checking**

**Are you around tonight or did you have plans? If you do, it's fine.**

 

Midorima is a decent enough backup, if he needs somewhere to crash and be reclusive until the trains run again in the morning.

 

Kagami's apartment is highly convenient. It's right near the station, but not so close that it's noisy nearby. Akashi hadn't taken note of that last time, but he does now in the middle of the night as he neatly shoulders his overnight bag and counts doors to the one that he remembers is Kagami's. 

 

Even then, he wavers before knocking, after hours on that stupid train and hours of already debating. 

 

_Just do it, what else have you got to lose._

 

Akashi swallows hard, and draws himself up, refusing to slouch or look like the kicked puppy he feels like when he knocks on Kagami's door. 

 

Kagami looks up from an enormous plate (bowl, it’s a mixing bowl) of fried rice, putting down the spoon (mixing spoon) now that his plate is empty, chewing a few more times before swallowing. “Yeah, coming, coming!” 

 

There’s a videogame currently paused on the big screen TV, and he hesitates for a moment before leaving it. If it’s Kuroko, he won’t care, and if it’s his dad, well, he wouldn’t knock. He tugs on a t-shirt over his boxers just in case it is someone else, and flips open the locks, opening the door to see--

 

“Oh. Uh. Hi, Akashi.”

 

Akashi takes a step forward, just in the case. This way, slamming the door in his face is _much_ more difficult. "What do you know about the remaining Japanese Imperial Royal Family?" he immediately and frankly asks. "How many heirs are there to the throne, do you suppose?" 

 

Kagami blinks. “What, like the Emperor? Like in World War Two?”

 

"Yes. Like the Emperor." Now, Akashi has a hand on the doorframe, because he is _not_ getting that door slammed on him. "You _are_ aware Japan still has an Emperor."

 

Kagami’s eyes narrow. Is this a trick? They’ve done this kind of thing in Current Events, he’s pretty sure. And he was...no, that was the day the Lakers lost to the Jazz, which was just _criminal_. “Yeah, yeah, he’s on the thousand-yen bill, right? Or...the ten-thousand...”

 

Akashi holds up a hand, a bid for silence. "That is not important. I'm eighth in line to that throne. Your reaction?" 

 

“Uh...cool?” Kagami hopes his face doesn’t look as entirely clueless as he feels. “That’s probably not the right reaction, right? Sorry, I just...I dunno, do you have to wear silly outfits and stuff? Seems....kinda dumb.”

 

_Good reaction._

 

Akashi doesn't bother saying it. Verbal rewards tend to work less effectively with men like Kagami Taiga. Thus, a physical one instead. Akashi reaches up, less-than-calmly grabbing the front of his shirt, and hauls him down for a hard, desperate kiss, uncaring if he has to hop up onto his tiptoes to really make it _happen._  

 

Note to self: make fun of the Emperor’s stupid clothes more often, he guesses?

 

Kagami doesn’t really care. What’s important is the way Akashi is grabbing at him, and the way he immediately leans down to make it happen. Long practice works with him here, and it’s easy to give himself over to that hot press of an eager mouth, hands coming up to cup Akashi’s face without meaning to. It takes a full three seconds before he remembers to step back inside, shutting the door behind Akashi.

 

Akashi's bag his the floor at some point, and both of his hands claw their way up into Kagami's hair, pulling him down and against him for _more_. His back hits the front door, and he keeps pulling. Kagami is just as warm as he remembers, every muscle just as hard and his hands just as big, and Akashi hears his breath hitching roughly in his own throat. _Sorry_ kind of dies on his tongue. It's hard to be sorry when he's not pushed away. 

 

Kagami pulls back for breath, grinning down at Akashi as he flips the locks on the door. “Damn. Is my lack of knowledge about current affairs really that hot? I mean, I’m okay with it--”

 

"Don't talk, just kiss me." 

 

Akashi yanks him right back down, hopping up again to get an arm around Kagami's neck and haul him down for another, deeper kiss, sucking Kagami's tongue into his mouth and pulling back only to breathe, his own lips red and sticky. "If you wouldn't mind," he adds, because Kagami mentioned something about liking the way he talked, last time? Whatever. He can speak _very_ elegantly, if that's what Kagami likes.

 

Kagami’s knees buckle, and they almost hit the floor before he steadies himself. _Ankle Break?_ he thinks wildly--but no, Akashi is just ridiculously hot and _grabbing_ at him. One strong arm goes around Akashi’s waist, pulling him close, and the other hand tangles in Akashi’s hair as Kagami kisses him like he has something to prove.

 

 _Better best perfect._ Probably not something he should be thinking about when he's clinging to a guy that he barely knows after skipping out on classes and practice and on a _school night_ \--

 

For better or for worse, Akashi's mind shuts up around Kagami Taiga, and he _does_ need that right now. 

 

Maybe, eventually, he'll calm down, but probably not when Kagami's mouth on his own makes him groan and cling to Kagami's shoulders. Akashi's own knees wobble, and he thinks about breathing when it vaguely occurs to him that he's lightheaded. Well. _Good._  

 

Kagami hardly notices that he’s lifting Akashi before the backs of his knees hit the couch, and he tumbles back, Akashi on his lap. That’s...pretty good, actually, and far easier at this angle to tilt his head up and nibble on a full lower lip, hands sliding down to drag over Akashi’s muscled back. “How long can you stay?” he murmurs. “Don’t wanna start something I can’t finish.”

 

Akashi melts, a little. He acknowledges that between getting Kagami's shirt off and getting his mouth on Kagami's neck, which as nice as he remembered it, besides. "Please start whatever you want," he says, and hopes that he doesn't sound too desperate, because he is, absolutely, 100% desperate. "I'm not going anywhere." 

 

For nearly two hours, neither of them really go anywhere, except eventually to Kagami’s bedroom--and then the couch again, when Kagami had wanted a glass of water and Akashi had been unwilling to relinquish him for that long. That’s where they end up, Akashi nestled under Kagami’s arm, Kagami’s hand tracing little patterns (the names of some famous basketball players spelled out in English) on his upper arms. Both of them are reasonably soaked with sweat, along with other things that a wipe with a tissue can only do so much for. “So, do I have to flunk a current affairs quiz before every time we do that?”

 

Akashi shakes his head slowly. He is effectively glued to Kagami's side, both courtesy of sweaty skin and his own arms latched about Kagami's waist, and by a mental string that he has yet to cut. It's going to be awhile before he feels like doing so, he thinks. "I just wanted to see how you would react. It's important that you were unfazed." 

 

“Okay. Cool.”

 

Kagami takes another nibble of Akashi’s shoulder, just because he can. “It’s gonna stay that way, pretty sure. Hey, are you hungry? I’m _starving_.”

 

"…I could eat." Akashi blinks up at him. "Can you cook?" Is that the implication there? Has he chosen wisely even _moreso?_ Excellent.

 

“I’m okay,” Kagami says, hoisting himself up from the couch. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind going out, but it’s usually better if I just do it myself.” 

 

He grabs his boxers--over the side of the side table, _right_ \--and hops into them, padding barefoot into the kitchen. “I’ve got...uh, I can do curry, fried rice--oh, sweet, ground pork, I can do gyoza! You like gyoza, right?” Cabbage, cabbage--yes, _score_.

 

Akashi's head pokes up over the back of the couch. "I'll eat them." It disappears again a second later, because he's too busy burrowing into Kagami's discarded shirt that he finds somewhere on the floor. "Ah…where did my phone go…"

 

_16 missed calls, 7 messages._

 

That's less than cute. Akashi gnaws on his lower lip, glances at the time--late, very late, too late to get back on a train. It's a school night. If he said that didn't panic him at least _slightly_ , he'd be lying, but at the same time… 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: A favor**

**I will grant you three favors in return should you do this one for me.**

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: !**

**I agree to anything short of murder that will take longer than 3 hours. I have to be awake for Oha Asa in the morning.**

 

Kagami throws the pork into the sink under running water to thaw, and starts chopping herbs and cabbage. Once he’s done, he digs out the wrappers he’d made in a batch and frozen the last time he’d had a day off and no one to play ball with. “Do you like spicy sauce or mild? I can make either. Also, rice or bread or tofu as a side?” _Because normal people don’t just eat 100 gyoza and call it a night, and I’m pretending to be one of those now I guess._

 

"Mild. And it depends on the kind of tofu," Akashi warily proposes, folding himself up quite comfortably into a corner of the couch. "If you don't feel like making it from scratch, I'll just eat gyoza, I don't mind." 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: …..**

**I am at Kagami Taiga's. Can you come get my phone…**

 

“I made some yesterday, is that good enough?” Kagami calls, mostly inside the fridge at this point. “I didn’t have a mold so it’s kind of circular, but I think it tastes good.”

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: ah**

**I will be there in as long as it takes a taxi to get from my house to that apartment. Please do not catch diseases. Sleeping with Kagami Taiga = Kuroko = Aomine, who knows what he has.**

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Don't be crass**

**We used condoms. I'm horny, not stupid. See you in a bit.**

 

"That's fine," Akashi calls over, burrowing his way down into the couch and Kagami's shirt alike, surprisingly and pleasantly sated. "It's kind of difficult to mess up gyoza, I think…"

 

“You _could_ just say that they’re good when I make them, not that they’re hard to mess up,” Kagami says with a sigh. “Whatever. As long as you’re happy.” Which means a lot more to him than he’d thought it would a little while ago. “Uh, if you wanna stay...I mean, you can. I don’t mind. Like, as long as you want. I’ll cut school tomorrow.” _Dumb, you idiot, he’s got a boyfriend, you’re just making it easy for another guy to walk out on you for someone better._

 

"I'm sure I'll say that once I've had them." Akashi's head pokes up over the back of the couch again. "I'm not sure how long I can stay tomorrow," he slowly says, "but…if I could stay the night, that would be nice." 

 

“Yeah. Cool.” Kagami runs through everything someone needs for a sleepover (is that what this is?? What do they call the adult version?) and thinks yes, he’s got everything. “There’s like, extra toothbrushes and shit in the bathroom.” 

 

Large fingers, deft for all their size, carefully and quickly pleat the sides of dumplings. After a few dozen, Kagami starts heating up the frying pan, getting a small pot of water ready. “Be nice to have you here,” he says, trying to be casual about it.

 

"I brought an overnight bag, please don't worry about it." It's probably strange to say that he had hoped and planned for this, but it's best to be honest, in this circumstance. "Reo and I broke up," Akashi suddenly supplies, and disappears down into the couch again. "I hope you and Tetsuya have been faring more…positively." 

 

“...oh.” 

 

Well. That makes things make a lot more sense. Kagami isn’t sure if he’s pleased to have gone from Bit on the Side to Rebound Guy, but he’s pretty sure it isn’t a step _down_ , at least. 

 

He busies himself with gyoza for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say. “Sorry, man. Kuroko...yeah, I guess we’re fighting. So...yeah. Maybe it’s best for both of us if you stay here right now, you know?”

 

Akashi nods, and when he realizes that Kagami isn't watching him, he settles on a quiet, "Maybe so." 

 

He flops down, setting his phone on the coffee table. "For the record. I'm not here because…we broke up. I mean. I suppose I am, sort of? But…I don't know…" He trails off, deciding that it's probably better to just stop talking when he's going to only end up walking around in circles verbally. 

 

“It, uh. It doesn’t _really_ matter to me,” Kagami confesses. He tosses the first batch of gyoza gently into the sizzling pan, browning them for a minute before adding water. “I mean, you can talk about it if you want, but I’m not gonna like...quiz you or anything. I just think it’s kinda weirdly fun to have you here. You play videogames?”

 

"…Sorry, I was under the impression that most people would be insulted if someone showed up at the door after a very recent breakup and had…a lot of sex with them. For some reason." Akashi blames that on Mayuzumi, if it's incorrect. His ranting about dating games has clarified that too many times over. "'Fun' isn't something I'm typically referred to as," he confesses. "But I'll play. And win."

 

Maybe being offended like that is a Japanese thing, Kagami isn’t sure. But it sure as hell doesn’t sound like most American dudes he’s ever known. “Yeah, maybe. I bet I can kick your ass on Rainbow Road, though.”

 

"Wrong. I'll win that, too. Feed me and I'll prove it." 

 

Kagami gives the pan a few tosses, then frowns and tosses it again. “Piece of shit pan. I think the nonstick is wearing off, I’ll get a new one later.” He might wear his pans to the point of uselessness faster than most people would expect--and there might be too many gyoza in the pan for most normal people, but Kagami doesn’t give a shit about that. 

 

He removes the lid, tossing the dumplings again, then makes up a cup of sauce to go with them. A minute later, he starts another batch, then sets a huge plate between himself and Akashi on the couch, next to the sauce. “Tell me if there’s something you need me to change.”

 

Chopsticks are pointless, clearly, and Akashi selects one of the less-painfully hot gyoza to gingerly dunk and eat in one bite. "You," he says, immediately grabbing for another one, "are underestimating your cooking abilities. Don't change anything, and think more highly of yourself." 

 

“It’s just good manners to ask about your guests’ taste,” Kagami mutters, popping three dumplings into his mouth at the same time, chewing five or six times before swallowing. “I know I cook what I like. How much do you eat?”

 

"About…four more," Akashi estimates, actually taking the time to savor his second dumpling and sagging back into the couch with a little sigh. "I'm assuming you can finish the rest yourself. I apologize for not being a bigger eater."

 

Kagami laughs, shoving another two over towards Akashi, then popping several more in his mouth. He gets up to take the other pan off of the stove, plopping the new dumplings on a separate plate, then bringing it back to the couch. “Don’t apologize, more for me. Shit, I forgot the tofu--I can do that later if you want, or in the morning. I mean...if you’re staying, I--”

 

A knock on the door makes Kagami blink. “Uh...hold on.”

 

"Oh, no, that's for me." Akashi pops another piece into his mouth as he hops up from the couch, grabbing his phone on the way. Thankfully, he's not wrong--it's Midorima when he opens up the door, with Takao (of course, ugh) peering suspiciously around him. "Thank you for being able to do this on such short notice, Shintarou."

 

Midorima holds out an empty hand, not the one currently holding a small clay figure of a hand-painted giraffe. “Oha Asa warned me that Sagittarius would be especially demanding today. I also brought you more condoms,” he says matter-of-factly, handing over a small plastic bag. “I had to stop along the way. Safety is important.”

 

“What the--I have _condoms_ , you asshole,” Kagami mutters around a huge mouthful of gyoza.

 

"Aren't you being thoughtful today," Akashi says, unfazed, and trades his phone for the bag. "Stop stalling and actually make a move in our ongoing game, if you would. I'll consider it my victory if you won't." 

 

"Kagami, are you even alive in there?" Takao calls, pawing his way around Midorima. "Condoms can't protect you from everything!" 

 

“Yeah,” Kagami calls, sliding one plate under another. “It doesn’t protect me from nosy dudes coming to my house and butting in.”

 

Midorima tucks the phone away, adjusting his glasses. “Resend the invitation. I think I’ve lost the link.”

 

"I requested Shintarou's presence, not his friend's." 

 

"Kagamiiiii, I'm not nosy--"

 

"I'm assuming it will be at your house?" Akashi mildly asks, not skipping a beat. "I'll probably be leaving tomorrow and will need to be able to retrieve it before then." 

 

“My house is an approved location, as far as I remember,” Midorima says frankly. “If I need to leave for whatever reason, I’ll drop it off at Murasakibara’s on the way. Is that amenable?”

 

Akashi's head tilts as he considers. "That should be fine. I'll resend the link later." He hesitates before quietly adding, "Thank you, Shintarou." 

 

"Hooooly shit," is Takao's muffled whisper from behind Midorima, and Akashi _does_ relish ignoring him. 

 

Midorima glares at Takao, then nods at Akashi. “You’re welcome. I’m sure I’ll want to call in that favor before long. Be safe.” If he tells Akashi to use condoms any more times, it will probably get to the point where he’ll avoid them just to make a point. “Call if you need anything else. I’ll keep a tally.”

 

“Nice,” Kagami mutters, shutting the door once his gyoza is gone. “Hey, what kind did he get? Are they as good as mine?”

 

Akashi flops back down onto the couch, pulling out the package to examine them. "Does it really matter?" he asks, honestly curious, and hands the box over to Kagami. "I would critique his need to continuously tell me to 'be safe', but this is him being very kind. Sorry for having him interrupt."

 

“It’s cool. Did he just...take your phone, though? What’s the deal with approved locations?” Kagami grabs the box of condoms, and shrugs. “These are okay. I get the wide ones, though.”

 

A slender eyebrow ticks up at that, vague amusement on his face. "Mm. Well, I'm staying the night," Akashi lightly says, "and when my father hears that I'm not at school tomorrow, he'll be looking for me. The first step is to check the GPS of my phone." 

 

“Huh. Weird.” Kagami tosses the condom box into his bedroom, where it bounces off his bed once and lands on his pillow. “Heh. Sweet. Listen, I don’t care who your family is, but it’s like...good manners to tell me if I’m gonna get arrested or something, right?”

 

"I'm not going to let you get arrested." Akashi pauses, then rephrases, _carefully_. "At least, I will make every attempt to make sure that you do not get arrested." 

 

Kagami shrugs. “Figure Kuroko’s more likely to get me booked into the slammer for something, anyway, all things considered.” Akashi has never driven him to assault any street punks. At least, not yet. Not that he couldn’t win. He can win.

 

"If we're both careful, my father won't ever even know that you exist." 

 

Akashi lists slowly sideways, planting his hands onto the couch next to Kagami and staring up at him. "I'm giving you full disclosure, because I failed to previously, and that's what made Reo so upset," he says, and hates the lump in his throat that he has to swallow around. "Being open about any part of this relationship is completely and utterly never going to happen, except within our circle of very specific friends." 

 

“Okay.” Kagami flops down onto the couch, flipping the TV back on and handing over a second controller. “This might surprise you, but I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to tell my old man his only son is a big fag. It’s...do you know much about, like, how they see that in America?”

 

The wave of relief that spreads through Akashi makes his shoulders sag, and he takes the controller as he slowly sinks back down, huddled up into Kagami's shirt. "No, I don't. Is your father entirely Japanese?" The urge to look up Kagami's family tree is a _very_ strong one. Later, when he has his phone back.

 

“He’s a nisei. You know, born in America, but both his folks are Japanese from Japan? And my mom’s full.” Kagami boots up the game, selecting Player One for himself. “Yeah. If I came out to my dad, he’d probably kick me out. Maybe punch me or something, that’s pretty common over there. Use the select button.”

 

"Do you know how many hours I've spent doing this with Atsushi?" Akashi mutters, selecting Player Two. To be fair, most of the time spent with Murasakibara playing video games is his own face planting onto the bed while Murasakibara plays, but…whatever. "If my father found out about me…" Akashi trails off. "Actually, I have no idea what he would do. He wouldn't punch me. He'd make me transfer schools, back to Tokyo, or stick to home tutors only. No basketball, nothing extra-curricular at all…"

 

“Lame. I’d probably...I dunno. Depends if my dad is feeling like I'm important or not.” Kagami leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs, focusing on the game because focusing on anything else sucks right now. “He’d either kick me out or send me to military school. Do you guys have that here?”

 

"I…don't think so? At least, not in the same sense." Akashi's mouth twists. "The idea of my father not thinking I'm important sounds like a relief. Shall we trade?"

 

“Heh. Does that mean I have to wear stupid imperial outfits?”

 

"Most of the royal family wear suits these days, except for extremely important festivities. Sorry to disappoint." 

 

“I can’t fit in most Japanese suits. Guess I’ll have to pass.” Kagami curses as Akashi passes him, leaning to the side as if it’ll help him go faster, turn right harder. “Not sure you’d like my dad, either. Like I said. He _might_ just kick me out.”

 

"I'm sure you could fit very nicely into a suit if it were properly tailored. And anyway, parents tend to like _me_ , at least," Akashi offers, doing a _very_ good job (for now) of remaining impassive as he creates a sizable margin between them. "What about your mother?"

 

“Uh. Japanese, I think.” Kagami uses a blue shell, with probably less-than-perfect aim, trying to catch up while being entirely annoyed with Akashi’s beginner’s luck. “She’s...not around.” But that’s not an acceptable answer in Japan, is it? Kagami’s learned that much, just by hanging around his friends. “She walked out when I was eight. Too much moving, or...I dunno, something.”

 

"I see. I'm sorry to hear th--oh, come _on_ ," Akashi suddenly snaps, blaming his near lack of dodging on the desire to actually pay attention to a conversation for a change. What a shame, that _did_ put him behind. "Ugh. At any rate, as I was _saying_ , I'm sorry. My mother died when I was in elementary school, so I understand, sort of."

 

Kagami zooms ahead, letting out a bark of laughter. “I’m not gonna let it go just because you told me about your dead mom,” he says with a grin, though, shit, that’s probably _really_ insensitive, but--blue shell!

 

He grunts, nearly taking a turn too fast and spinning off into space, regaining his composure at the last second. “That sucks. At least you know she wanted you.”

 

"At least you know yours is still alive…maybe? Isn't that how that works?" Akashi sets his teeth into a grind as he hurries to catch up, slowly leaning to the side very much like Kagami as he takes the turn after him. "My mother was the direct link to the royal family; I think that's why my father is so obsessed with staying involved like he is. Well…other than the money, and the status, and every other neurosis he has." Being able to essentially _talk shit_ about his father is shockingly cathartic. 

 

Kagami tucks his legs up, the couch creaking with every turn he takes now, frantically mashing buttons. “Your dad sounds like a piece of shit. Sounds like my dad with money. And _property_ , he gets weird about--no, fuck you, _fuck you_ \--”

 

"Hah! How's that! You questioned my prowess on the Rainbow Road, didn't you?" Akashi gleefully declares as he flies past Kagami, tossing out a banana peel in his wake. "There's a formula to this that you aren't even _bothering_ to take note of, and _yes_ , my father _is_ a complete and utter control freak and very difficult to deal with!" He settles back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh. "Watch your mouth, though, don't talk like Shintarou." 

 

“I’ll just do it in English,” Kagami mutters, shifting around like a different position is going to help him _win_. “Formula my ass--take that, yeah, your fucking dumb car can’t _compare_ \--make your dad suck on that tonight, _what!_ ”

 

Akashi, for his part, sort of ends up in Kagami's lap. Who cares if it's cheating or not? He's not getting pushed _out of it_ , and this is a much better position for winning, clearly. "You're _going_ to lose, no matter what language you're talking trash in," he loftily says. "That is sort of the nature of being around me, I'm sorry to say." 

 

“You’re definitely not sorry at all,” Kagami says with a laugh. He tries to move his arm, overcompensates, and goes spinning off of the Rainbow Road into oblivion, never to be heard from again. “Fuck. C’mere, if you’re gonna beat me, I’m gonna grab your ass. And maybe your dick.” That sounds _really_ fair, he thinks.

 

"Is that a punishment, or a reward?" Akashi sighs, finishing the task of crossing the finish line before he tilts his head back to look at Kagami. "You're _entirely_ certain that it's fine for me to be here tonight?" 

 

Kagami waves around at the empty apartment, his other arm snaking around Akashi’s waist to pull him back against his own chest. Akashi smells _good_ , and he takes the opportunity to sniff to his heart’s content, behind Akashi’s ear, up the side of his neck, smelling nothing but victory, _strength_. “No one’s gonna show up. If they do, I’ll kick them out.”

 

Akashi sinks back with a long, pleased shiver, his head falling back contently against one broad shoulder. It's not quite the answer to the question he was asking, but he likes hearing it all the same…very, very much so. "Taiga," he asks suddenly, one hand loosely curling against the arm wrapped about his waist, "it feels electric to you, too, doesn't it? Just being able to do things like this…"

 

Kagami’s eyes close for a second. Like this, curled up, pressed close, it’s like he can feel each breath Akashi takes, feel it through his pores themselves, feel it as if he’s breathing in Akashi instead of just air. Every square inch of space where he’s pressed against Akashi feels hot to the touch, as if he can feel that warmth seeping into him from the outside. “Yeah,” he manages finally, hand curling around Akashi’s waist. “I’m...not used to it being like this.”

 

"Not with Tetsuya?" He _has_ to ask. It's troubling, because he's not jealous, not even in the slightest way, but he still _has_ to ask. Akashi sucks in a slow breath, turning his head to better press his face into Kagami's neck, nuzzling there and pressing his mouth to smooth, surprisingly soft skin. "I'm not trying to steal you from him," he softly says. "Even if you didn't think that, I want you to _know it_ , because…I know others are thinking it."

 

Kagami lets out a huff of air. “Not...not with him,” he admits, and wishes that it didn’t feel like such a betrayal. “I don’t mean--I’m not saying it’s better or anything? Just...with him it’s like...best friends, you know? It’s natural, I guess. This...this is...” _Really nice._

 

Akashi nods slowly and twists around in Kagami's lap, draping his arms over his shoulders. "I wanted to make sure it was the same for you. This…" he briefly trails off, his gaze flicking sideways. "I find you very easy to be around. Somehow."

 

“This is really embarrassing,” Kagami mutters, even as his arms tug Akashi closer, into an easy hold. “I mean...no offense, right, but I literally just brought you home to make Kuroko jealous.”

 

"I figured." Akashi sighs, hooking his chin over Kagami's shoulder, his eyes lidding. "I slept with you just to make Reo take a hint, and look where that ended up. _Honestly_."

 

“I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think you were hot already,” Kagami says hastily, wanting to make sure that that, at least, is clear. “But, like, scary hot.”

 

"'Scary hot.'" An eyebrow ticks up in bemusement. "You still think I'm scary? I thought I was being very mild lately…ah..I need to recalibrate."

 

“No, no, you’re not scary _anymore_. It’s just...yeah. That feeling that I’m gonna get stepped on and like it lingers.”

 

"Stepped on…right. Like in a sex way, I'm following." Akashi sits back, staring up at Kagami contemplatively. "I suppose I should make it clear as well--I have always considered you attractive, even before all of this occurred. You are absolutely my type."

 

Kagami grins, leaning back against the sofa’s back, hands running up and down Akashi’s sides and shoulders. “You’ve got good taste. Heh. I bet you had a pretty active fantasy life before we did it the first time, right?”

 

"…More or less," Akashi admits wryly. "Well--since the Winter Cup, at least. I don't know, it unfortunately took a back burner for awhile." He leans up, mouthing an absent kiss to the line of Kagami's jaw. "It doesn't matter now. I came up to Tokyo for you specifically." 

 

The knock on the door this time makes Akashi jump slightly, courtesy of not expecting it. He frowns, sliding sideways out of Kagami's lap. "Are you expecting someone?" Midorima doesn't knock like that, after all.

 

“Is it Midorima again?” Kagami wonders, climbing to his feet in annoyance. “Oh--no, fuck, it’s trash day, my neighbor likes to yell at me about having too much plastic instead of--oh. Kuroko.” Kagami blinks at the slight figure in the doorway, and is suddenly very aware that he’s in his boxers and Akashi is wearing a borrowed t-shirt and nothing else. “Uh...hey.”

 

"Hello, Kagami-kun." Kuroko stares up at him before he tilts his head slowly. "You look busy." 

 

Ah. So _this_ , specifically, is what 'awkward' feels like. Akashi tucks himself neatly into seiza even on the couch, thankful that Kagami's shirt is _quite_ long on him. Does he say something? _Why_ is this so awkward, in particular? The urge to text someone for even a vague bit of advice is strong. 

 

Kagami jerks his head awkwardly. “Want to come in? There’s some leftover gyoza. Oh, shit, I forgot to make that tofu. Or...”

 

He looks at the way Kuroko is shifting and trying not to look over his shoulder, and damned if he can’t smell Aomine all the hell over him. “Do you have to go soon? Is he waiting?”

 

Kuroko pauses, rocking back onto his heels lightly. "I don't know. Is Akashi-kun waiting?" Whoops. That sounds petty. He _feels_ petty, however, even if that's the worst thing to be.

 

In theory.

 

"Either way," Kuroko adds with only a brief hesitation, _trying_ not to sound snippy again, "I was around, so I thought I'd ask if you were up for Maji Burger, and maybe going to the court. I know it's late, but you're also usually up…"

 

Damn. Kagami _does_ love Maji Burger. He opens his mouth to say yes, but what comes out is, “With just you?”

 

Kuroko's stare is impassive. "No, Aomine-kun is coming." 

 

A hot surge of annoyance (anger, it’s called anger) wells up in Kagami’s chest, and he folds his arms. “When you invite someone out, you should say shit like that. Pass.”

 

"You obviously already knew he was coming when you asked if he was waiting or not," Kuroko stiffly replies. Fine, he'll be the permissive one, if he must. "You can bring Akashi-kun."

 

“You didn’t say that! I just guessed because you smell like him!” Kagami huffs, then looks irritably back at Akashi, sitting politely and quietly on his couch. “Do _you_ want burgers?”

 

"If you want to go with someone, I'll go," Akashi carefully allows, and lifts a hand in greeting to Kuroko when those wide, blue eyes fixate upon him. "Hello, Tetsuya."

 

"Hello, Akashi-kun." Kuroko tears his stare (glare) away and back up to Kagami. "Kagami-kun, I hope you don't get arrested." 

 

“Thanks. I hope I don’t get arrested too.” Kagami wipes a big hand down over his face, torn between the idea of burgers and the idea of seeing Kuroko and Aomine being _close_. “You know...I thought you were gonna come over to apologize for this afternoon.”

 

"I'm not sure what I should be apologizing for, but if that's what you'd like for me to do--" Kuroko bows, no matter the low irritation in his voice. "I'm very sorry for this afternoon. Anyway, Kagami-kun, you do realize this is a school night, so your days are numbered." 

 

“I’m allowed to have people over on school nights,” Kagami grumbles, mildly charmed by the way Kuroko apologizes while insisting that he’s done nothing wrong--which should really be _annoying_ rather than cute, but Kuroko’s always been an exception. “Let me grab some clothes. Is the dog coming?” Not that he’s missed him or anything.

 

" _You're_ allowed," Kuroko says vaguely, but nods, pleased that this has gone as arranged…for the most part. "Aomine-kun has him. Is Akashi-kun coming?" 

 

"I…suppose I am?" Lovely, this is verging on the worst kind of awkward, like the very bad dramas that Kise is destined to star in some day. 

 

"Akashi-kun will probably do whatever he wants, anyway," Kuroko says, lightly dismissive, and turns away. "I'll meet you at the corner downstairs, Kagami-kun." 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Kagami shuts the door as soon as Kuroko leaves, and slumps back against it. “Ugh. This is gonna be weird. Sorry for you being dragged into this, you don’t have to come.”

 

"Won't it be worse if I'm not there?" Akashi unfolds, sliding off of the couch. "Tetsuya is in a mood," he wearily notes. "And that's my fault, so the least I can do is come with you."

 

“I know you’re not that good with Aomine. I’m not gonna make you come if you don’t want to. Hell, I’m not even sure why I’m going.”

 

He disappears into his bedroom for a moment, yanking on basketball shorts and a t-shirt, considering a jacket against the cold then discarding it. They’re right down the street, and it’s not that cold. The clothing change helps him avoid thinking about the real reason he’s considering grabbing a few dozen burgers. Sitting at a table with Aomine and Kuroko will help, probably tell him whether this is something that can work or not. Whether he’s ready to make that decision or not, the day seems to be upon him.

 

Akashi digs through his overnight bag--found, oddly enough, tossed far into a corner of the living room (was it dunked there in their haste?? who knows)--and regretfully pulls off Kagami's stolen t-shirt in exchange for a pair of slacks and a sweater. "It's better if I go," he says decisively. "If it's just you, they'll gang up on you. That's their modus operandi, I'm afraid." 

 

“I’m just not sure for what,” Kagami admits. “I mean, they’re _gonna_ gang up on me. Just not sure why. To break Kuroko up with me, or...I dunno. Try to get me to join in.” Not that he hasn’t thought about it.

 

Opening his mouth about Kuroko and any and all of his tendencies is not ideal, or probably even remotely appreciated. Honestly, it's not charming to try and explain someone's negative points before going to dinner with them. "Well, having someone else available to discuss terms is always helpful," Akashi says neutrally instead, running a hand through his hair and hoping that he doesn't look like he feels: mussed and perpetually wobbly. "Consider it to be like a business meeting." 

 

“Then I _really_ need someone there to help me out,” Kagami says wryly. Unfair, that Akashi looks so put-together and elegant compared to the way Kagami looks--like a rumpled, trampled wild man. “I get the feeling you actually know how to, like, survive in a business meeting.”

 

Akashi blinks up at him. "I've gone to several with my father since I started middle school. Are you ready? You should bring a coat, it's cold out." 

 

“I don’t need a coat,” Kagami mutters, grabbing a coat on the way out. He’s still twisting into it by the time they get down to the corner, where Kuroko, Aomine, and Nigou are waiting. “Uh, hey.”

 

“Yo.” Aomine snorts a little at the sight of Akashi. “Shit, Tetsu, you weren’t making it up. Hey, Akashi.”

 

"I told you, Aomine-kun. He really is here…on a _school night_."

 

Akashi heaves a sigh at that, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his own coat in short order. "Hello." 

 

Subsequently, Nigou growls, and Akashi grimaces. "Your dog is so…pleasant."

 

"I know," Kuroko says without batting an eye. 

 

“I don’t like dogs,” Kagami mutters, even as Nigou tries to bathe his hand, earning a shaky petting to his head. “Whatever, Maji Burger is close, let’s just eat until this feels like a good idea.”

 

It’s a statement when Kuroko walks parallel with Aomine, but that doesn’t make it feel any less like a punch to Kagami’s gut. _You’re an idiot,_ he tells himself sternly, walking briskly to keep up. _You knew it was like this the first time you met Aomine in that one-on-one. It was always going to end up with the two of them walking away from you together._

 

The short distance makes it clear as to why _this_ is the preferred meeting spot--but not else does. One of the letters in the flashing MAJI BURGER sign flickers in and out, and Akashi bites his tongue regarding commentary about acceptable late-night eating. It's one thing if it's something healthier than this, or even if it's junk food sparingly during the day (even he has weaknesses), but this…

 

More importantly, the whole aura of this situation is resembling that of one of the worst business meetings he's ever attended, and that needs to stop. Akashi wavers a pace behind Kagami, fingers itching for something to do--no phone, can't even open a game of _solitaire_ \--and it does take some considerable effort not to reach out sheerly on impulse and grab hold of Kagami's hand, especially when Kuroko attaches himself to Aomine's arm. _Wrong reaction, we're in public and you are not his boyfriend,_ Akashi reminds himself tiredly, his gaze averting towards the ceiling. Right, he's just tired. A long day, a long train ride, a long night… 

 

"Is it the usual tonight, sir?" the girl at the counter warily asks, eyeing Kagami with something akin to fear. He has a _reputation_ here. 

 

Kagami opens his mouth to confirm that yes, the usual sounds comforting as hell right now, when Aomine moves, slinging an arm around Kagami’s shoulders. “What’s this guy’s usual?”

 

“U-uh, twenty-five burgers,” she says, with a large false smile and a slow-running drop of sweat. “Really.”

 

“Cool. I’ll have thirty.”

 

Kagami glares sideways, stepping away from the arm. “I’m hungry today. I’ll have thirty-two.”

 

“And _I’ll_ have thirty-six.”

 

“I’m hungrier than I thought, I want forty.”

 

“Forty-five!”

 

Kagami shrugs. “Changed my mind. The usual. How you gonna pay for all those burgers, hotshot?”

 

Aomine’s face freezes in his victory, and he turns slowly to Kuroko. “Hey...Tetsu...”

 

"Aomine-kun…no…I'm too young to be your sugar mama."

 

“But _Tetsu_ , I’m _winning_.”

 

Kagami silently pays for twenty five burgers, then turns to Akashi. “You want anything?”

 

"You're not winning," Kuroko says with a flat stare. "He has twenty five burgers, and you don't have any."

 

This is going to be a longer night still. "Just a chocolate milkshake, please," Akashi tells the woman, and she proceeds to fumble and nearly drop his money before darting off with a high-pitched noise. Nice.

 

"Aomine-kun has to behave himself very well if I'm going to buy him anything at all." 

 

Aomine slings an arm around Kuroko’s neck, pulling him close and ruffling his hair. “You don’t want me to _starve_ , right? I’ll do that thing you like when we get back to my place...”

 

“Cut it out, you guys,” Kagami mutters, more resentful than he should be that he needs to find a table for four instead of his and Kuroko’s usual table for two.

 

Kuroko heaves a long-suffering sigh, swaying underneath Aomine's weight. "I'm not buying forty-five of them, Aomine-kun."

 

Aomine gives him a squeeze. “Just buy like, twenty of them, I’ll get the rest.” He can probably afford like ten burgers. He digs in his pockets, coming out with 1835 yen, plopping it on the counter. “How many does that get me?”

 

“Uh...six, sir?”

 

"Aomine-kun needs to get a _job_ ," Kuroko crossly mutters, but forks over the money, anyway. "Twenty more burgers, apparently. And a vanilla shake, please. Look, you won."

 

“Hell _yeah_ , I won,” Aomine mutters, picking up the tray with a feeling of mild victory. He slides into the booth opposite Kagami and Akashi, unwrapping a burger (one of twenty- _six_ , ha) and starts eating. “So. Akashi. Just a late bloomer, or is it just this guy’s dick that does it for you?”

 

“Oi,” Kagami warns.

 

 _Better to start late than start early and screw everything up, as your genetic makeup dictates_ is on the tip of his tongue, but honestly, the quip is probably too high-concept for Aomine, and Kuroko will get it and be even angrier with him. "I don't ask you about your private life; extend the same courtesy."

 

"Aomine-kun, at least don't ask about it in public," Kuroko mildly chides. "You're being very rude." 

 

Aomine shrugs, moving on to a second burger, unable to ignore the fact that Kagami is already on his third, asshole. “It’s not like we sit down and all talk that often,” he points out. “I dunno, I’m just remembering him grilling you about safe sex at _practice_ after we did it the first time.”

 

Kagami stops chewing for a moment, staring at Akashi. “You did that?”

 

Akashi doesn't as much as blink. "Well, it was necessary, and it led to a team meeting _as it should have_ \--" he firmly says before Kuroko can get a word in edgewise. "Because at the time, Haizaki was on the team, and obviously, Ryouta, and both of _you_ \--"

 

"Mom's back," Kuroko remarks mildly, glancing up at Aomine. "Is that good or bad?" 

 

“Annoying,” Aomine says with a sigh, even if he’s secretly more pleased than he wants to let on. It’s not like he’d _liked_ the other version of Akashi. “That meeting was rough. Getting lectured by you and Midorima--the biggest virgins giving the sex talk, _seriously_. It was medical as hell,” he informs Kagami.

 

Kagami just frowns, looking from one to the other, between the three of them. “How long ago was that, anyway?” He’d been under the impression that Aomine and Kuroko had barely started to date before breaking up, but it’s sounding less and less like that’s the case.

 

"After the first game that I played in."

 

Akashi takes a sip from his milkshake. "What game do you consider that, exactly. The nosebleed game, or the first real game."

 

"Akashi-kun. I didn't ask for your opinion." 

 

"I'm just saying, they are very different games--"

 

"Aomine-kun and I don't need such technicalities." 

 

Akashi's eyebrows raise in silence, his gaze briefly flitting up to Kagami.

 

“Oh.” Kagami takes another bite of his burger, which isn’t quite as good as the first six he’d eaten. After it’s gone, he doesn’t pick another one up. “That’s longer than I thought.”

 

“We were together longer than we were broken up,” Aomine says, gleefully tossing an empty wrapper into the trash can in a perfect three point. “Guess I have you to thank for fixing us back up, idiot.”

 

"Aomine-kun, don't thank someone while calling them an idiot at the same time." 

 

Nigou sniffs at their feet, then slinks slowly over to Akashi before sniffing and growling low in his throat. Akashi surreptitiously scoots closer to Kagami in the booth. "Tetsuya, you should really train that dog better." 

 

"I think he's good like this," Kuroko says. "Kagami-kun likes him. Aomine-kun, too." 

 

Kagami scoots as far into the booth as he can get, smushing himself up against the wall and still trying to look casual. “You can give him one of my burgers if that’ll shut him up.”

 

“I’ll take some,” Aomine offers, reaching over, and Kagami swats his hand away as if it’s a poorly-timed pass. 

 

“I think you’ve taken enough,” he mutters, hoping that doesn’t sound as pathetically jealous as he feels.

 

That, unfortunately, causes a rather awkward silence. Aomine shifts, taken aback by the sudden heat in Kagami’s voice.

 

It's Kuroko that finally breaks the silence with a very calm and level: " _Aomine-kun_ didn't take anything from anyone here. Nigou, shh." 

 

The growling intensifies all the same, and Kuroko eventually bends down to scoop him up, setting the dog in his lap. 

 

 _Fantastic_ , Akashi thinks tiredly, _now both Kuroko and his dog can stare at me._ Which continues, of course, until he attempts to start with: "Tetsuya--"

 

"Akashi-kun, I really only like for my friends to call me by my first name, and while I realize you've fallen into the habit, it would be better if you stopped." 

 

Akashi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. "Fair enough." 

 

The tension is a little much, and Kagami leans forward, looking around to make sure that people from other tables aren’t too close. “I’m getting kinda sick of this. I didn’t sign up to be in this pissing contest, so just...give it to me straight. What’s the plan, Kuroko?”

 

Kuroko considers for a moment, turning his milkshake around and around in his grasp. Nigou licks the outside of the cup. "I'm greedy," he says. "And I want both of you. That's all there is to it, I think." 

 

“Yeah, if you’re only thinking about your feelings.” Kagami downs a glass of water, sitting back in the booth. “What if I don’t want to be part of that? It’s not what I signed up for. You changed the rules.”

 

“This was going on way before you even showed up in this country, moron,” Aomine growls.

 

Kuroko's head cocks. "I never set any rules. How could I change them?" He sighs, sinking back and absently playing with Nigou's paws. "I can understand if it's jarring to you. If it's too much to expect a sandwich, I understand that, too…but it's not like you don't think Aomine-kun is hot." He glances briefly to Akashi, then back to Kagami. "And it's not like I've really complained that you're doing it with him." 

 

“It’s not like you have any right to complain about that,” Kagami mutters. Then a switch flips, and he leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table, jamming a finger in Kuroko’s face. “No, listen. You didn’t even ask. You didn’t even try. You should have come to me right away and said, ‘hey, Kagami-kun, don’t you think Aomine’s hot? We should ask if he wants to hook up or something, because I’ve got some unresolved shit and part of it is a boner.’ That’s how you do it when you’re into two guys. You don’t just start dating one of them in the middle of, you know, dating the other.” 

 

Aomine leans forward, casually interspersing himself between Kagami and Kuroko’s little staring mess. “Yeah? Says who? If he wants to do it this way, you’re the one that can’t keep up.”

 

"I thought Kagami-kun was following along and already understood all of that." Kuroko's slowly deepening frown darkens. "You knew Aomine-kun and I had history, and you knew that we were getting close again. You should at least be aware of this, Kagami-kun, because I made him give you his shoes." 

 

Kuroko's eyes swivel sharply away from Aomine and Kagami, and to Akashi, he bluntly adds: "And anyway--just because I accepted Akashi-kun's apology doesn't mean I have to be nice, or to pretend that I want him to be happy. Kagami-kun can say all day that I don't have any right to complain about this, but I think I do, because the minute I wanted to spend time with Aomine-kun, _you_ swept in and tried to take Kagami-kun."

 

Far from expecting to be dragged _directly_ into this conflict, Akashi unfortunately finds himself tripping over his tongue. "Te--Kuroko, I'm not trying to--"

 

"Yes, you are. Because that's what you do, Akashi-kun. You take what makes me happy, or you tell me to _give up on them_ which is the exact same thing, and just because I want both Kagami-kun and Aomine-kun doesn't make me a bad person. It just makes me greedy, and I think I'm allowed to be now. Akashi-kun is the mean one, and if Kagami-kun can't realize that, then I don't know what else to say, because I've already told him _everything._ " 

 

By this point, Kagami looks decidedly unhappy, with Magi Burger curdling in his stomach. There’s no reason Aomine should look so smug, or that he should feel like the bad guy for just wanting a boyfriend who’s just _his boyfriend_ , should he? He lowers his voice, asking quietly, “Can we talk about this in private for a minute?”

 

“It’s not gonna change anything.” If anything, Kagami had expected Aomine’s voice to sound a lot more amused. Instead, it sounds almost...kind, which makes him want to punch Aomine in the face. “Tetsu’s made his choice, man. If you’re gonna tell him it’s you or me, you’re opting out.” 

 

“He can speak for himself,” Kagami snaps.

 

"Aomine-kun is right." Kuroko slouches down a bit more, his chin atop his dog's head. Akashi, across from him, falls silent to the point of imperceptible. "I'm sorry, Kagami-kun. I can understand if you don't want to do this, and I only want you to if you…really want to. You're a really great person, and because of that I think I just have to be honest and let you know that I don't think I can stay away from Aomine-kun."

 

_Not even if I beg?_

 

Hurt wells up in Kagami’s throat, and he swallows it down. His hands clench into fists, but he just nods, turning to look at Akashi and asking in a quiet voice, “Can you scoot over to let me out?”

 

"Do you--" _Do you want me to come with you?_ almost escapes, but the stare that Kuroko gives him is enough to make even Akashi Seijuurou shut his mouth on this day and at this time. He nods, sliding out to let Kagami escape. 

 

"Kagami-kun--" Kuroko pushes Nigou into Aomine's lap as he hops out of the booth as well. "I'm not mad at you or anything--it's nothing you _did_." 

 

“Yeah. I get that, at least.” _Mostly because there’s nothing more I could have done._ It’s not easy to turn away from those intense, gentle blue eyes, but Kagami manages, somehow. “You can come if you want,” he mutters to Akashi, who’d come up from goddamn _Kyoto_ to see him anyway. 

 

He grabs his coat and the rest of his burgers, then plops the tray down in front of a group of middle school kids trying to pool their yen to get a value meal to split on his way out.

 

Akashi wavers, then exhales a soft breath, scooping up his coat with a polite nod to Aomine and Kuroko. There's nothing else to be said to them, not really. Maybe this would have gone differently if he hadn't come along, but one last glance at Kuroko's face tells him otherwise. 

 

He has nothing to do with this, and Kuroko's decision was already set in stone, no matter Akashi's involvement. 

 

"K…Taiga." Kuroko calling him out on his habit is now making names jumble up awkwardly in his head. Akashi hates that. More than that, he hates not knowing what to say, or do in any kind of situation, and this is one of them, for the second time today. "I'm sorry," he settles upon quietly once they're several paces from the restaurant. "I don't have to stay tonight, if you'd rather be alone. Or…well, whatever would make you feel better." 

 

Kagami takes a deep breath, looking up at the foggy gray skies that seem to hang over Tokyo for most of the winter. Then he exhales, jamming his hands in his pockets. “You’re gonna laugh at me,” he warns. “But...you wanna do some one-on-one? I need to move. It’s that or go for a run.”

 

Akashi's brow furrows. "Why would I laugh about that?" he asks, tugging his own coat more securely around himself. "Either or sounds fine." 

 

“I--oh. Right. You can actually...yeah, great!” Shit, now he’s excited. It’s been a while since one-on-one was a challenge, one that he actually had the time for. He grabs Akashi’s sleeve without thinking, and tugs him into the fenced street court up the block, tossing his own coat unrepentantly onto the bench as he jogs over to grab a ball. “Best of twenty-one? Or first to twenty-one?”

 

The surprise of being tugged along like that shakes Akashi's mind out of the loop it wants to be in. What a relief that is--and basketball, right, that's a very good thing to focus on instead, isn't it? Kagami has the right idea. "First to twenty-one will take longer," Akashi says, instantly calculating the odds and their own typical modes of play as he reluctantly tugs his own coat off. So _cold_. "So let's just do that."

 

“Yeah, _good_.” Someone who uses basketball as an escape almost as much as he does? Yeah, Kagami’s just about ready for something like that right now. He dribbles a few times, then goes into an offensive crouch. “Take the first defense. I’ll warm you up.” That’s the only warning he gives before heading into a layup with his full force behind it.

 

Instantly, the same pressure from the Winter Cup is back, and Akashi knows he's a lunatic for relishing that so much. 

 

It's not quite the same, admittedly. There's not the whole of Seirin breathing down his neck, or the way Kuroko stares him down the whole time, whether or not he's on the bench. Instead, it's just Kagami, strong and always _so_ surprisingly fast, but--"Work harder if you want to warm _me_ up." 

 

An agile, precise bounce puts Akashi perfectly in place to steal the ball from Kagami's grasp and dart around him. 

 

“No you _don’t_ \--”

 

Kagami turns on a dime, shooting towards the net and landing hard on both feet to spring up into the air, launching himself into the highest block he has in his repertoire, making full use of his explosive jumping power.

 

Akashi's lips twitch into a smile in spite of himself, and he takes a step back instead of surging forward, passing the ball to his other hand behind his back. "You're very good at jumping high," he lightly says, and one more step back makes his shot a clean three-pointer over Kagami's head instead of the net confrontation that Kagami _clearly_ wants. "It's cute. Like a very enthusiastic rabbit." 

 

Kagami hits the ground, shoulders rounded as he grabs the rebound, going in for an explosive dunk in the next second. He slams the ball through, hearing the telltale squeaks start in the hoop, and lets go quickly. “Landlord said I have to pay for all the ones I break,” he mutters. “I tried to have a stronger one put in, but he just put up the same one again and charged it to the rent.”

 

While Kagami explains this to him, Akashi trots over to his own hoop and does an easy lay-up. "Well, if it brings you satisfaction, go for it," he says with a wry smile. "Atsushi used to break them when he was angry. And…he'll kill me for telling you this, but Shintarou has tendencies, too."

 

 

Kagami grins, a bit of his frustration falling off like sweat as he dives for the ball, intentionally pushing Akashi into a one-on-one beneath the hoop, purposely avoiding the triple threat pose. “What made that guy so mad he’d break a hoop? Someone jiggle the stick up his ass? Daddy not give him the pony he wanted for his birthday?”

 

"Aomine told him his lucky item was stupid." Akashi finds himself torn between amusement and sulking because Kagami is avoiding what _he_ thinks is a very fun trick. Speed and effort it is. Akashi fakes quickly to the left before diving right, trying for a layup that he's not in the neatest position for, but oh well, needs must. 

 

“His lucky item _is_ stupid. He’s a grown damn man--” Kagami is starting to pant, by virtue of having to put his whole concentration and effort into every single step. “Playing you is a mindfuck, huh?”

 

Akashi blinks calmly up at him, and neatly shoots over Kagami's head while the question is being asked. "If you don't concentrate properly, of course I'd be able to do this much." 

 

Kagami grabs the ball, and grins. “As long as you don’t run out of stamina and give up on me after nine points.” It’ll take a hell of a lot longer to get to nine points when they’re both scoring points, of course, which makes it a hell of a lot more fun this way.

 

"Impossible," Akashi airily says, already darting back to a defensive position. "If you were ever a part of Rakuzan's training regime, you would understand why."

 

“Honestly?” Kagami hurtles forward, then fades back into a formless shot, trying for an outside three even if he’s not great at them. “I like it better that way!”

 

Akashi's lips purse as he watches the ball hit the rim of the hoop, circle, and bounce off, leaving him little reason to jump to stop it, and more reasons to just wait for the rebound instead, which he immediately catches. "It's in your shoulders, by the way," he says, dribbling slowly as he walks over. "You drop your left every time that you shoot with your right hand, and vice versa--and that throws your accuracy off, especially with outside shots." 

 

Kagami grunts, dropping into a defensive position. “That’s what my coach said, too--but every time she tried to fix it, I got a lot slower. She wanted to work with me for a while on it, but it was always right before a big game...” He lunges, going to knock the ball out of Akashi’s hand.

 

"I'll work with you on it." It's easy to blurt something like that out when he's weaving out of the way, backtracking a few paces. "I mean," Akashi quickly revises, and takes the outside shot, demonstrating the perfect form that he had just chided Kagami about, "obviously, you don't have to take any advice from a rival team. I'm sure your captain would think I'm trying to sabotage you." 

 

“I don’t really care what he thinks,” Kagami says frankly, and his eyes track down over Akashi’s shoulder, taking note of that form he’d mentioned, noting the graceful way his muscles bunch the exact appropriate amount, the way he moves in an elegant, wasteless way, the way the sweat drips down his skin--

 

The ball sails through the hoop, and Kagami flushes bright, sudden red. “Uh. Sorry. I wasn’t...paying attention.”

 

Akashi shoots him an amused look, and his weight briefly shifts as he starts to go and get the ball. Then he stops, changing his mind, and reaches up instead, hooking a finger into the collar of Kagami's shirt to promptly tug him down. "Yes, you are," he simply says, and he presses a kiss to Kagami's lips before releasing him and jogging off. "Ah. I forgot the score, I guess we'll just have to start over. Unless you remember it?" 

 

Kagami’s heart thuds as if an actual arc of electricity had just hit it, and his mouth tugs up at the corners. He shakes his head, sweat droplets going everywhere, and takes a deep breath. “Sure I remember. It’s zero to zero. First to twenty-one wins, so come at me.”

 

Akashi exhales a soft breath, fully relaxing for what feels like the first time in _ages_. This part of the night, at least, is a good one. "Lucky you," he says, tugging the edge of his sweater up to wipe his face and hide the smile that won't go away. "I'm already warmed up." 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Akashi hears the knock on his dorm room door--several of them, in fact--but ignores it for the moment. 

 

His father isn't someone that likes being ignored on the phone, one. "Yes, I've budgeted for this out of my own allowance. Unfortunately, Rakuzan didn't offer this particular class, but I've already submitted the necessary paperwork for it to be added as credit."

 

The door creaks open, and it's Hayama's head that pokes inside first. Akashi's teeth grind. A shooing motion does nothing except make the door creak open a little bit more. "It does coincide with my scouting ventures, yes, but that's a secondary reason to make the trip to Tokyo--no, that won't interfere." The door creaks more. He can definitely see Nebuya's size 32 feet from here, damn it. "Midorima-san has already agreed to allow me to stay with them, so it won't cause any issues for the staff; I know you don't like to have them around on the weekends."

 

Pause. "Right. Yes. I understand. I'll forward you the information for tax purposes later. Yes. Thank you, Father. Have a nice evening." 

 

The moment the call ends, Akashi collapses back onto his bed, staring at the half-open door. "Was it _so_ hard leading practice in my stead for an afternoon, Reo?" 

 

"He _cried_ ," Nebuya says firmly, as if this will properly chastise Akashi for making them all worry.

 

"I only cried a little! Sei-chan, seriously," Mibuchi says, trying to delicately walk the line between 'concerned friend, teammate, and gorgeous big sister' and 'the guy that dumped him a few days ago.' "If you want to act out, just be safe about it. Running practice isn't the problem--the teachers were having heart attacks! Student council suspended all activities!"

 

"It was weird," Hayama says, his eyes wide. "And also, Reo-nee cried soooo much, don't let him fool you!" 

 

Akashi heaves a sigh, his hands drumming agains the side of the bed. "Teachers were having heart attacks because the note of excuse I left was misplaced, and student council was suspended because I'm the president, and they cannot hold meetings without my presence. This is all fairly standard."

 

"You're making this sound really, really normal, but it definitely wasn't," Hayama archly accuses. "Reo-nee _cried_."

 

"Will you at least come in properly and shut the door behind you if you're all going to chastise me?" 

 

"The whole world should hear about how mean you are, Akashi!"

 

"Not," Akashi grinds out, "about why I was really in Tokyo. Not that it's any of your business, but if I just tell Reo, he'll tell it to both of you in about five seconds flat and we'll be right back to where we all started." 

 

"Exactly," Mibuchi says, shutting the door as soon as everyone (minus Mayuzumi, but they've been minus Mayuzumi for weeks, and all for the better) is inside. "Now we can hear the whole story, and also stop crying about who may or may not have shed a few ladylike tears."

 

"It's okay, Reo-nee," Nebuya says seriously, clapping Mibuchi on the shoulder so hard the clap reverberates through the room. "It's good for you to let your emotions out. Just feel it."

 

"....Thanks, Eikichi. I'll just feel it."

 

"There was something about scouting, I bet!" Hayama says, already bouncing back and forth between toes and heels and generally making Akashi feel seasick while watching him wobble. "Super cool! I mean, the basketball club is huge, and I'm sure there are some great guys there, but no one's as good as _us_ or on our level, sooo--"

 

"Scouting isn't the reason I went there, but it occurred to me afterwards, so we'll just go with that," Akashi says on a long sigh, lacing his fingers together in his lap. Is it supposed to be this normal and casual around an ex-boyfriend? He can't help but have his thoughts stray in that direction every time he looks at Mibuchi. Affection, certainly, but calm resignation and acknowledgement--that's what he feels, and that's…fine. Not like the palpable hurt he'd seen on Kagami's face, and on Kuroko's, too. This is so much more workable. "We obviously need a power forward that's…reliable, next year. I've given up the idea of another phantom prototype, so traditional team dynamics it is." 

 

He pauses, and decides to just go ahead and drop the bomb. "Kagami Taiga." 

 

If there's a second of hesitation where Mibuchi attempts to decide whether he should be bristling or not, it passes quickly, and without much fanfare. He sighs, and drops down to the nearest chair, fiddling with the ends of his hair. "Hmm...I mean, discounting the obvious, of course, there's the question of whether his particular style of play would synergize properly with ours."

 

"But--but he doesn't even go to Rakuzan!"

 

"Yes, Eikichi," Mibuchi says patiently. "That would be the obvious thing that I was talking about. We're all well aware that Kagami Taiga goes to Seirin, of course. If Sei-chan is suggesting him, he obviously has a plan to put that most egregious of errors to rest."

 

"That's the guy that's from America, right? Oh, _man_ , that would be _awesome_ , I bet he's seen the Lakers play and everything--"

 

"I don't think it will be difficult to convince him to transfer," Akashi cuts in as Hayama hangs off of the back of Mibuchi's chair in his excitement. "Mostly, because I am at least 98% certain that Kuroko will be transferring to Touou Gakuen. Seirin will not be a threat next year." 

 

"Not if we poach their best asset, surely," Mibuchi sighs, leaning back against the chair. There are a few things he could ask--how Akashi plans to convince Kagami to move to Kyoto, what kind of incentives are going to be involved, whether his father will see acquiring the competition as a sign of strength or a sign of weakness--but none of it is really necessary, at least not right now. "Well. When he shows up, we'll make him feel at home, won't we?"

 

Nebuya's eyes widen. "Party? We can totally throw him a party."

 

"We can definitely throw him a party! Reo-neeeeeee, you have to cook those cute little cakes that you make all the time! Please please please please--"

 

A little sigh of relief leaves Akashi in spite of himself. "Thank you for all being very amenable to this. Obviously, it hasn't happened yet, so no promises, but I do think he would be a very solid addition to the team. I'll be planting the seed when I visit again, next weekend." 

 

"That's a lot of traveling," Mibuchi says, mildly concerned. "Sei-chan, you can't start neglecting your health just to bring Kagami to Rakuzan. There's still school and student council and everything too, you know."

 

"Not like he can't do it." Nebuya fishes a wrapped sandwich out of his pocket, only slightly squished, and starts eating. "If anyone could do it, it's him."

 

"I have another class session scheduled in Tokyo every Saturday now as well, so I'm effectively multi-tasking," Akashi dismisses with a light wave of his hand. 

 

"You already take more classes than us, and you're a first year," Hayama points out, mystified. 

 

"I'm good at doing homework on trains."

 

"Uhhh…Ei-chan, back me up, that's not the problem. Also, gimme a bite of that."

 

Instead of handing over a bite, Nebuya pulls out another identical sandwich and passes it over. "I dunno. I think he can do it. Hey, next time we should all go!" He beams, thrilled with this proposition. "We haven't done Tokyo together since the Winter Cup, this time we should go to some of the botanical gardens. And all convince Kagami to come to Rakuzan together! Let's buy him food, that'll do it."

 

Mibuchi sighs. "I don't think a few burgers are going to make the difference--but I've been wrong about the simplicity of men before, Heaven only knows."

 

"…That might actually seal the deal," Akashi admits with a helpless shrug. "He really likes burgers."

 

"Hehh, Akashi, have you already been dragging him out to dinner to butter him up?" Hayama asks around a mouthful of sandwich. "Nice, really nice!" 

 

"Not precisely? I haven't brought the idea up to him yet, but it's only a matter of time." Akashi frowns. "I wonder how his grades are. Rakuzan's entrance exam is difficult enough even for non-transfers. Well, another thing to research, I suppose…"

 

"Whatever they are, they don't stand a chance against your determination." Mibuchi's voice is fond, and he just barely refrains from patting Akashi's head as he stands--and then gives in and tousles that soft red hair anyway. He had promised cuddles, after all. "Should we leave you to your plans? Do you need catch-up help after the weekend?"

 

Nebuya polishes off his sandwich, and upon not finding anything else edible in his pockets, starts discreetly looking around. "I might need to go. I'm modeling for the Life Drawing class tonight, and I want to pump some iron first to plump up the chest."

 

Hayama finishes half of the sandwich before handing it over to Nebuya. "Ei-chan, I'll spot you! I promise it won't be like that time I got distracted, seriously--"

 

"You two can go; thank you for checking in on me," Akashi says with a wave of his hand, and he hesitates only a second before gently batting Mibuchi's hand out of his hair. "Reo, stay for just a minute?" 

 

Mibuchi stays graciously behind, shutting the door behind the other two on their way out. "As long as you need me, Sei-chan. Is this about...you and me? Or did you need big sisterly advice?"

 

"I…will it offend you if I tell you I consider the matter of you and I very neatly closed for now?" Akashi tiredly asks, _hoping_ that doesn't sound callous. "I was upset, admittedly, and that's why I went to Tokyo initially, but I'm feeling better now and I apologize for worrying you." 

 

Mibuchi breathes a sigh of relief, brushing a hand back through his hair, then artfully arranging it in front of his face again. "I'm really...really glad to hear that, Sei-chan. I...it's not easy, to be someone's first heartbreak." Especially not when he'd been significantly heartbroken himself--still is, though it's nice to hear that Akashi isn't unhappy. "Has he been good? To you, for you?"

 

Of course it's obvious to Mibuchi. Akashi flops backwards, allowing himself a moment of weakness in which he yanks a pillow over his face and groans into it. "I don't know what to _do._ " This is tacky. Unmistakably tacky, and classless, and…who _else_ is he going to talk to? _Midorima?_ Not a chance. 

 

Mibuchi's earlier reticence vanishes, replaced by one hundred percent pure nee-san. He lights on the bed, stroking one shoulder consolingly. "Boys are awful," he agrees with a sigh. "Gorgeous basketball redheads even more so. Is he playing hard to get? Being coy? Trying to be tough?"

 

Akashi's head shakes underneath the pillow that he's smashing to his face. "None of the above. He's…it's…a situation." When isn't it, though? 

 

Slowly, he rolls, ending up on his stomach and lifting his head from the pillow with a long sigh. "I was there when Te…Kuroko broke up with him." Retrain, he has to retrain himself to say that name _properly_. "I feel like this should all be much more delicate than it is. He's certainly not pushing me away, but I don't know how far to honestly go…right now, or ever." His face hits the pillow again. "Is this what people call a 'rebound'? For both of us? Or is Shintarou correct, and this is high level Oha Asa fate nonsense--Reo, I don't _know_." 

 

"There are a few things you need to keep in mind," Mibuchi says gently, combing his fingers slowly through Akashi's hair, carding it back from his face in what he hopes is a soothing motion. "You know you both have to be careful. And you know you're both getting over something big. And you know that he's American at heart, and probably has some different ideas on how this kind of thing works. Basically..." Is it cruel, to give Akashi the advice he wishes someone else had before they'd attempted? No, it's just kind. "Make sure you listen to his problems just as much as you make him aware of yours, Sei-chan."

 

"We already talked about it, a little." Akashi doesn't lift his head, so his voice is muffled. More important than talking entirely audibly is the way that Mibuchi's hand feels in his hair, soothing and making his head stop spinning. "Not in a relationship way. In a 'no one talks about it and finds out' way. He's worried about his father finding out, too, so that's…something." He curls his arms underneath the pillow, squeezing it. "I didn't mean to _like_ him." 

 

Sei-chan is way too cute, Mibuchi is convinced. "No one means for something like this to happen, my darling. He seems like the kind of person that...happens to people, don't you think? That's not supposed to be an insult, either."

 

"…Maybe. I don't know." Akashi slowly rotates, peering up at Mibuchi. "He made me gyoza. And we played basketball until nearly 1 in the morning." 

 

Mibuchi lets out a long sigh straight from his romantic soul. "That's awfully charming, Sei-chan. He sounds about as nutty about basketball as you are...and I know that's hard to find, isn't it?" Akashi might pretend that he only plays basketball because it's one of many extracurriculars he wants to excel at, but Mibuchi has seen the light in his eyes during the game, and knows the truth.

 

"He's very charming," Akashi has to admit, unable to even be infuriated like he would like to be. "And--honestly, from a captain's stand point, he's _wasted_ on Seirin. I had to take on another class in _Tokyo_ just to make sure my father wouldn't question how often I'd like to go back and forth and properly train him…ah, this is a mess."

 

Mibuchi is quiet for a moment, with no sound but the soft, rhythmic brush of his fingers through Akashi's hair. The wind is strong today, whipping by the window with great force, but the dorms are well-insulated enough that they feel or hear none of it inside. "It doesn't need to be a mess in your mind," he says softly. "Just think about it as if...something good is happening. He could get to go to a better school. We could get an excellent power forward. You could find someone who is willing to take exactly what you have to give, and vice versa, Sei-chan. He might have been looking for someone like you for a while now."

 

Akashi opens his mouth to say something generic, to just agree, to just let it rest. He probably should, all things considered. 

 

But if he can't talk to Reo, who _can_ he talk to?

 

He slowly scoots closer, his face buried neatly into Mibuchi's side. "I'm not trying to be a pessimist, but that all sounds unlikely. Reo…do you think the me that's here, right now, is mean?" 

 

Mibuchi lets out a startled squeak of a noise that is more like a whimper, and curls himself protectively around Akashi's smaller frame. "You know I thought you were cute before," he says carefully, "so take this with a grain of salt, but...Sei-chan, I think the you that is here right now is the most charming, elegant, and sweet boy I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. You're caring, compassionate, brilliant, challenging, demure, and thoughtful, and I can't imagine anyone more lovable."

 

"I think that you are undoubtedly biased." Akashi's sigh is a quiet, but still relieved one as he curls up close, folding himself into a tiny ball. "But it still feels good to hear you say that. Kuroko…still blames me for quite a bit, as he has every right to. It still hurt to hear that he didn't think I deserved to be happy, though. I didn't even know what to say." 

 

"He's an immature brat to say that." Biased? Him? Well, yes, and defensive, and aggressively protective as well. Mibuchi doesn't think there's anything wrong with that, though. "From what you've told me, all you did was allow Aomine to do as he liked. It isn't your fault that included breaking up with Kuroko, now is it?"

 

"You are absolutely my worst apologist." Akashi _can't_ resist snuggling up into Mibuchi's hold. If there is one thing that they have been always good at, it's cuddling. "I think he has every right to be angry with me still, because it went beyond just the Aomine thing…I don't know, I just had to tell someone that it wasn't pleasant hearing that sort of thing. I'm feeling very thin-skinned and do not like it." 

 

"I will always prefer you thin-skinned and yourself to thick-skinned and a force to be feared and respected but never loved."

 

Mibuchi buries his face in Akashi's hair, all four limbs twining around him now that he has some kind of permission to do so. "You're right. I'm your worst apologist, because I don't think you've done anything wrong. I just think you're very brave and excellent."

 

"Then…keep being my apologist, even if I get us Kagami Taiga." 

 

Akashi's hands curl up around Mibuchi's back, loosely working their way into his shirt as he nuzzles his face into the other boy's chest. "I feel very selfish asking that of you," he quietly says. "But even if he and I aren't… _something_ , I want him here. So, as a friend, and with you being my vice captain--please?" 

 

Mibuchi blinks very fast for a moment, cuddling Akashi firmly until he gets himself under control, and he can speak without his voice wavering. "Sei-chan...something like that, you don't even need to ask. I'll always be here to believe the best in you, probably fainting at the sight of your magnificent face. I'm rather taken with you, you know." Hopefully that sounds light and amused, rather than choked and serious.

 

"Reo," is the quiet wheeze from where Akashi is squished _very tightly_ to Mibuchi's chest, "I'm so glad to hear that. But I do hope we can talk in the near future without you bursting into tears, or squeezing me until I hear bones popping." 

 

"I hope so too, Sei-chan," Mibuchi says without the slightest bit of apology. He lets up slightly, but not too much, asserting his dominance as the strongest clinger without a hint of regret. "But until then, please bear with it."

 

~

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: you**

**should come over**

 

Aomine's is the usual and preferred meeting spot. Privacy is typical there, whereas Kuroko's family's apartment at least usually has his grandmother and mother lurking about. 

 

Today, later in the evening in the middle of the week, it's empty. It's been a pair of days since the Burger Incident, as Kuroko is apt to call it now, and there is nothing more awkward than basketball practice. Kuroko _hates that._

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: or**

**we can meet at a court and then you can come over**

 

The point is--Aomine. That is the person that he wants to see. 

 

**To: TETSU**

**From: AOMINE DAIKI**

**Subject: WHEREVER**

**I WANNA SEE YOU. CAN I TAKE VIDEO THIS TIME.**

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: no**

**no video until you stop TEXTING LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME**

 

**To: TETSU**

**From: AOMINE DAIKI**

**Subject: COURT? MINE?**

**IT'S MY STYLE. YOU THINK IT'S HOT ADMIT IT.**

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: fine**

**it's not a very good style, aomine-kun. see you in 10.**

 

The puffy coat is out and about in its full, puffy-coated glory. Kuroko can see that before he even opens up the gate to the court and walks in. He has this inexplicable urge to take it, usually, and wrap himself up in it the entire way, even if it's horrible to look at. Whatever. "Texting in all katakana gives me headaches. Give me your coat."

 

Aomine sighs, pulling off his coat and wrapping it around Kuroko's shoulders. "You should wear your own. Now I have to be cold," he complains, even if he'll warm up in about ten seconds playing basketball. "Don't spill anything on it, that's my favorite coat. Here, my reward." 

 

He leans down and tugs on the coat, bringing Kuroko in for a long kiss, not giving a shit if anyone walking by the fenced court pisses themselves over it. Kuroko can pull off looking like a girl from behind anyway, and this wouldn't be the first time they've made use of it.

 

Kuroko exhales the long breath he's been holding, tension flooding outward the second Aomine's lips are on his own. "Aomine-kun is being very cute," he murmurs, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt and steal another kiss before releasing him. "I like this coat, too. But if you don't have it, then I get to look at more of you, and that makes me happy, so it's mine right now." 

 

"Get me naked at my house," Aomine gripes without any real complaint, tousling Kuroko's hair with a proprietary ruffle. "You wanna run some drills first? Or you wanna save up all my energy for later?"

 

"I want to talk to you about something. You can play while we talk, I know you need something to do at the same time." Kuroko huddles up into Aomine's coat, very much enjoying the heavy drape of it and how it smells of _nothing_ but Aomine. 

 

That's a relief. Aomine immediately launches into a layup, dribbling as if against an invisible opponent, then fades away into a formless shot behind his back, only to grab his own rebound out of the air and dunk it aggressively. "What's up?"

 

"I don't know if I can stay at Seirin." Kuroko's eyes slowly lid as he watches, mesmerized. Honestly, why does he ever expect to be anything but? Watching Aomine never gets old. "It's been really awkward, the last couple of days." 

 

"Come to Touou," is the immediate slip out of Aomine's mouth. He laughs at himself a little, passing behind his back to himself, tossing the ball in a fast circle around his shoulders, letting it roll around his arms before tipping it into the air with one elbow, then launching it at the hoop to swish. "I mean, I know you won't, but the invitation is real. Call me a romantic."

 

"But I want to. Could you talk to your coach for me?"

 

Finally saying it takes a weight off of Kuroko's shoulders and a pain out of his chest, which is something that he's felt since learning about where Aomine had gone to school. He plops down onto a nearby bench, bundling himself up further. "It's an academy--I'm not so sure I'll be able to just get in with average grades. But maybe with that and a recommendation from your coach…" 

 

Aomine doesn't exactly miss his shot, but the ball does slip from his fingers. He catches it on principle, then tosses it to the side of the court when he runs to Kuroko's side, scooping him up and off the ground without a second thought. "Are you retarded? You're a national champion and everyone knows it, Tetsu. If I got in with my grades, you're gonna be, like, the top of the...shit, this is so sweet!"

 

Kuroko blinks rapidly, not exactly _unused_ to being scooped up, but readjusting to it being Aomine after so, _so_ long, when Aomine is actually excited and _happy_ \--

 

His vision is suddenly a hot, wet blur, and he shoves his face into Aomine's shoulder to hide it. "Sometimes, I forget that I was on a nationally winning team," he admits on a shaky laugh. "Because we started talking again before that, and felt just as great."

 

Aomine hugs Kuroko so tight he hears bones creak, and thinks that's probably good. He even spins him once or twice before setting him down, cupping his face and kissing him hard. "No, but shit, this is gonna be amazing. Fuck, it was good before, but..." He grins, a hint of that old energetic light coming back to his eyes, lighting them from within. "Just don't pass to Wakamatsu. Fuck that guy."

 

Kuroko wobbles a bit, nodding on principle, and grabs back at Aomine to latch firmly to his waist. "I might have to, because that's how games work," he points out matter-of-factly, staring up at him. "Aomine-kun--you have to really remember how to catch my passes now. Please don't make me think about going to Shutoku, I do not want to." 

 

Aomine doesn't laugh, letting the moment actually be serious as Kuroko stares at him. Then he ruffles that tousled hair, giving him a squeeze and another kiss. "Yeah, yeah. Like I'd inflict Midorima on you. Besides, if we're gonna play against that guy and Murasakibara and your ex and Akashi...I'm gonna need those passes."

 

"You forgot Kise-kun. Or is that sort of the point." 

 

"Kise doesn't count."

 

"Aomine-kun, that excuse only goes so far." Kuroko thunks his head against Aomine's chest, infinitely pleased. "Please don't mention this to anyone yet. It would be even more awkward." 

 

"Yeah, sure." Aomine slides his hands under his own big puffy coat, pulling Kuroko close. "You wanna go inside yet? I got some welcome presents I can give you early. It's sex."

 

"Aomine-kun thinks he's very smooth," Kuroko says, his smile wry but still genuine. "He's wrong, but still cute. Sure, let's go in." 

 

~

 

At least everything at Rakuzan is startlingly normal for the rest of the week.

 

Akashi thrives on that normalcy. It means fitting everything neatly into the boxes of time that he's appropriated for them, and completing tasks perfectly and without hitch. Bumps in the road can be accommodated for, of course, but it's always such a relief when they don't happen. 

 

Especially when it gives him enough time to gear up to asking Kagami if coming by _again_ this weekend is okay. 

 

Today, for example, is very normal. He leaves basketball practice on time--an hour later than anyone else--and makes his way back to his dorm room, still sweaty and sloppily dressed and not caring because this is the time of evening that everyone else is out with their friends, and not around to see him haul his bag of books and laptop back to his room alone. 

 

Akashi settles in, flipping open his computer and content to allow himself at _least_ fifteen minutes…maybe twenty…on his next move in the current game he and Midorima are playing. Unfortunately, Midorima has neglected his turn--again--and it's with a scowl that he signs into Skype, very prepared to hassle him. 

 

**You have a contact request from: LAKERS4EVR**

 

…Huh.

 

Those are _not_ weird butterflies in his stomach. He does not get weird and giddy, that's just ridiculous. Cautiously, he accepts, because it's not like Kagami (it's _obviously_ Kagami! who gave his screen name out? Midorima? _probably_ ) is probably online at this time--oh, shit. He is. Akashi wavers, staring at the screen and torn between bolting away from his laptop or squishing it to his chest. This…this is unprecedented. 

 

_Shit, he accepted._

 

Kagami drums his hands nervously on his legs, sitting cross-legged on the couch and staring at his laptop the way he has been since he sent that stupid request. Okay, it's fine. Akashi accepted, which means he must be willing to talk. That means he should absolutely say something.

 

**LAKERS4EVR is typing**

 

**...................................................**

 

**Nephew**

 

_No, no no no, I am not prepared for this._

 

Texting is one thing. Apparently, showing up at Kagami's door in the middle of the night is also fine. This feels…very…personal, somehow, even if Kagami clearly has some horrific autocorrect issues going on. Maybe. Two other people in real life know of his Skype--Murasakibara, and Midorima--and even then…

 

First things first.

 

_Midorima, you bastard._

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**You gave him my username. You gave him my username but you couldn't even make a move in our game??**

 

Right. That's the easy part, scolding Midorima. Kagami, on the other hand…

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**Good evening.**

 

Akashi falls backwards, yanking a pillow over his face and exhaling a frustrated noise into it. Failure. This is absolute FAILURE. 

 

Kagami buries his head in his arms and groans at the two simple words flashing on the screen. Akashi is angry--furious by the sound of it--and no, he's such a too, he should never have gone behind Akashi's back and talked to Midorima of all people. What did he think was going to happen? That it would be cute? Now Akashi hates him!

 

 _Pull it together, Taiga Kagami._ Kagami resists the urge to bash himself over the head, and instead attempts a reply.

 

**LAKERS4EVR is typing**

 

**You’re sorry you so strong. My ears give you Skype. Sorry I meant busy.**

 

**/basketball emoticon**

 

 

**LUCKYCANCER is typing**

 

**I have now made a move. Your argument is invalid. You never told me you wished your information kept secret, of course.**

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**In the words of a dear friend of mine, DIE.**

 

Akashi steels himself. He prides himself on his composure, after all. He is not going to scream into a pillow for the whole night. He is going to end up having an actual conversation. 

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**I'm not busy, don't worry. It was just a surprise.**

 

**Not a bad one.**

 

**How are you?**

 

Calm, he is _calm_. 

 

**LUCKYCANCER is typing**

 

**You still owe me a favor. I will not be gracious enough to die before it is fulfilled. You’re welcome.**

 

**LUCKYCANCER has signed off**

 

Kagami stares at the screen, trying to think past the butterflies. Eventually, he comes up with, 

 

**LAKERS4EVR is typing**

 

**I’m good. Thinking your mouth vacancy.**

 

Akashi squints, laces his fingers together, and contemplates. 

 

Right. This is code, slang, or…something…else. Another very weird typo, perhaps? No matter how he thinks about it, it doesn't quite make sense and that's why he eventually just settles upon:

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**Would video chat be easier?**

 

**LAKERS4EVR is typing**

 

**This is not difficult. Maybe exclamation?**

 

**LAKERS4EVR is calling**

 

Kagami runs his fingers back through his hair quickly, looking in the dark parts of the screen to make sure he doesn’t have food on his face or anything.

 

**YUKIMARU2012 has joined this call**

 

"I think," Akashi drawls, sitting back from his laptop slightly, "that autocorrect is getting the better of you, Kagami Taiga." 

 

Kagami sighs, though he can’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot at the sight of Akashi, looking as professional and put-together as always even in the comfort of his room. “Sorry. It always suggests the wrong kanji, and I forget what it’s supposed to be...it’s just a mess. But, uh, hey. I hope it wasn’t too weird of me to ping you.”

 

"I suppose you did spend the greater part of your formative years in America…that must make it difficult." God, at least he isn't dealing with an Aomine, who doesn't even _try_ to use kanji, the idiot. Akashi sighs, sitting back onto his heels with a smile already trying to tug at his lips. "It wasn't strange that you contacted me; merely surprising that it was this way. Shintarou, huh?" 

 

“I, uh, didn’t have your number,” Kagami explains, scratching at the back of his head, hoping he doesn’t sound like a total loser. “So I texted him and asked for your number to tell you that you left something here, but he wouldn’t give it to me, he said you didn’t need to be bothered or whatever. He said Skype was an okay compromise.”

 

"Ahh…that was my mistake. I have yours. Ryouta," he offers up before Kagami can ask _how and from who._ Akashi leans back, reaching into his bag for his phone. "Here, I'll text you now so you have mine from now on. Skype is fine, but I usually have fairly limited time at the computer in the evenings." 

 

**To: Kagami Taiga**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Here**

 

"Sorry for leaving something, by the way--what is it?" 

 

Kagami’s cheeks flush, and he has to remind himself that he’s a _man_ and a _national champion_ and therefore _super manly._ “Are you gonna be mad if I say I just wanted to talk to you? I mean--I saw one of my hoodies inside out, and it looked like the one you were wearing, and then I just thought...damn, if he’d really left it that would give me a legit reason to talk to him...that’s gay, sorry.”

 

Akashi _does_ hope that the honest surprise that he feels isn't so obviously painted on his face. Even after spending a couple of good days with Kagami, it's still tenuous at best in his mind that such a thing can be repeated. For good reason, really… 

 

"It's not…I'm not mad." His expression softens as he adds wryly, "You don't need a 'legit' reason to talk to me. I was trying to come up with one myself, to talk to you. Texting you out of the blue seemed a little rude." 

 

“Oh.” Kagami blinks, then relaxes back against the back of the couch, rubbing a large hand over his face. “That’s, yeah, that’s good. Uh...” No, best not to ruin a perfectly good conversation with a talk about _What are we??_. That had not gotten him anywhere good last time, and damned if he’s going to ruin at least the best booty call he’s ever had, even if that’s all Akashi wants from him. “How’s school?” _Wow, great job making conversation, Taiga, how could he ever pass up such a fantastic and intelligent guy as you?_

 

Akashi's head tilts. Does he give an honest answer, or a dismissive one? Neutral is probably best. "A necessary evil as always. Ah--I'm taking another class in Tokyo, starting this Saturday." Hoooow does one bridge this conversation gap. How? It's absolutely too soon to talk about dating, isn't it? He's at least 51% sure that's the case. 

 

“Y-yeah?” Kagami sits up a little straighter, tugging on the neck of his shirt. “That’s...I mean, you’ll probably be really busy while you’re here, right? If you have to go all the way to Tokyo for a class, that must be a hell of a class, huh?” _Don’t get your damn hopes up, idiot._

 

"It's only for a few hours on Saturday." Oh, to hell with it. What does he have to lose, really? Akashi's mouth twists faintly, and he leans in closer to the laptop, his hands on his knees. "I'm taking it because I needed a second reason to travel to Tokyo and visit you." 

 

Kagami has to look away from the laptop for a minute, to get his face and emotions under control. “Oh. I, oh.” Kagami reaches over and absently starts kneading his hand into a pillow, licking his lips nervously. “And here’s me telling myself not to get my hopes up. Hey--you wanna go out?” _Well, there it is._ It hadn’t worked out so well last time, but there’s no use drawing it out if it’s going to tank this time, either.

 

Is it really _that_ easy? Akashi blinks. Huh. Mystifying. With Mibuchi, it had taken _much_ persuasion. "Yes." 

 

How long has Kagami been sweating? He has no idea, but it should really....stop. “Uh, cool. Really cool. Um, good.” God, he’s _gay_. “Don’t think that means I’m gonna go easy on you in basketball, though!” _Dumb. Why the fuck did I say that?_

 

"I should hope not," Akashi mildly replies, entirely unfazed as he sinks back with a long, relieved exhale. "Ahh. That's been weighing on me. It's very difficult to judge when it's acceptable to date again after a breakup, and while I understand it varies from person to person…" He trails off, refocusing with a shrug. "At any rate. Might we make plans for Saturday? I'll need to meet up with Shintarou at some point, to hand off my phone again. My father thinks I'm staying with his family, but otherwise…" 

 

“Yeah, I’m free Saturday. I was just gonna...I dunno, go shoe shopping or something.” _Because these don’t feel right anymore._ “I’ll do that early. Then we can just hang out for the rest of the day, or...whatever. Anything you miss about Tokyo?”

 

"My class gets out at noon, so that sounds good." Akashi pauses to think. "I don't miss Tokyo very much, ever," he admits with a light shrug. "Honestly, if you just wanted to go to a court all weekend I'm fine with that. If you want, we can invite a few others and play a few games that way…I'm not sure about how your situation with Kuroko is, admittedly." He's not sure how his own is, either.

 

“I’m over it,” Kagami says, and it’s only about 25% a lie. “I mean...yeah. I’m over it enough to play with him and stuff, so that’s not an issue. I’m not the kind of guy who can’t take rejection, you know?”

 

"Well…I fear my presence is going to make his behavior worse, so I apologize in advance for that." Akashi rubs absently at the back of his neck. "He does have every right to be angry with me. The only thing to do at this point is be polite, because I don't really have the time to keep apologizing." 

 

“I don’t see what you need to apologize for,” Kagami says frankly, reaching for a bag of popcorn he’d stashed in his end table and opening it with a flick of his wrist, plunging a hand inside. “You didn’t finish anything he didn’t start.”

 

"What all did he tell you, exactly?" Akashi drags out one of many books from his bag, already tagged with homework assignments, and idly switches to the window with his current shogi game. Hmmm. "Is it all right if I work while we talk? I'm not planning on ignoring you, I just have problems with not multi-tasking." 

 

“Nah, go for it, I can’t talk if I’m not eating. That’s kind of the same, I guess.” Kagami pops the popcorn into his mouth one by one, chewing after he’s built up a large mouthful. “I guess he didn’t need to tell me anything, you know? I was there. He’s the one who started dating Aomine without finishing stuff with me first.”

 

"This isn't something you want to hear, but it's worth noting: I don't think he ever really stopped dating Aomine." Akashi's pen idly taps at his notebook before he starts down one row of math problems. "They stopped talking, certainly, but…mm. They've been attached at the hip since day one." 

 

Akashi isn’t _wrong_ about Kagami not wanting to hear that. Then again, that doesn’t exactly make it worse, either. “It’s like...I never really had a shot, did I?” he asks wryly. “I mean, I figured I was a placeholder in basketball, but this is...I dunno. Fuck, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Did you tell your team you have Saturdays busy now?”

 

"Sorry. I didn't want you to think it was your fault; I objectively think that Kuroko is missing out. Hold on two seconds." Akashi's attention swivels sharply back to his shogi game, eyes blazing, the perfect move suddenly coming to mind which he gleefully makes. _Have fun, Shintarou._ "Anyway, yes, my team is aware that my Saturdays are now full. Possibly Sundays, too, if you'll have me on occasion. I told them I'm trying to poach a power forward." 

 

 _Poach_...?

 

Kagami wonders if he can look that word up discreetly, then realizes he has no idea what kanji is used. “Sorry--poach? What’s that word?”

 

"Oh. 'Steal.' Here." With the press of a hot key and the fluidity of long practice, the video on Akashi's side immediately switches to a screen share and a blank canvas, wherein he draws the appropriate kanji in a few elegant strokes of his stylus over the touch screen. 

 

A pause, and Akashi writes out 'steal' in English as well, right underneath it. "My apologies--English is okay, but out of practice," he says in perfect, if not very stiff English, then switches back to Japanese. "I won the Kantou region's English forum back in middle school, but I simply don't have time to study it like I used to, so the bare minimum it is."

 

“Your English is really good,” Kagami says, looking entirely relaxed that Akashi didn’t laugh at his bad Japanese. “Sorry my Japanese is kinda shitty. I, uh, forget my sentence endings a lot. And I don’t know much kanji, I guess. Believe it or not, my grades were pretty good in America.” There’s a slight wistful tone in his voice. Hopefully it doesn’t show on his face.

 

"You went over there during elementary and middle school, right? It's no small wonder that you have issues with kanji. Here, I'm going to make you a cheat sheet." A new canvas comes up, and Akashi immediately starts writing. "There are a million standardized radical worksheets out there and I'm sure you've seen them, but I'm sorting them in a way that's easier to learn in a hurry. I'll e-mail this to you, if that's okay?" 

 

“Yeah, that’s...radicals?” Kagami side-eyes the computer at the word. “That’s like, the parts that make up the kanji, right?”

 

"Yes. And once you know what those signify, it's a lot easier to deduce what each kanji means, even if you don't know it offhand. Like…letters in a word. Too many times, children are taught that hiragana and katakana are like the English alphabet, but radicals are that moreso, and if you don't know them, it's impossible to properly learn kanji." Akashi keeps writing, neatly adding furigana to each radical. "There are 214, so don't try to learn all of them in one sitting." 

 

“I’m definitely not going to learn them all in one sitting,” Kagami says wearily, rubbing his forehead. This already feels like _school_ , and he’s been told enough times that he’s fucking stupid at school. “This isn’t going to matter once I get out of high school. You’re probably wasting your time. Everyone says I’m a lost cause.”

 

"Has anyone tried to teach you like this before?" 

 

“Well...no.” Kagami finishes off his bag of popcorn, then tosses the bag into the trash, brushing all remaining crumbs into his hand, then tossing those in the trash as well. “The team found out my grades were bad a few months ago. They kept me awake studying for a couple straight days, but I didn’t learn much.”

 

"Obviously you didn't. That's no way to study." Akashi keeps writing, unfazed. "I understand that you're interested in a career as an athlete, but it's in your best interest to be able to read Japanese fluently. Give this a try, and I'll help you. What are your grades like now?" Not that he's fishing for info or anything. 

 

“I made the top third of my grade at midterms,” Kagami says with a shrug. “That’s with Midorima’s pencil, though. On quizzes I’m making like...I dunno. Depends on the subject. I’m definitely failing Japanese lit and, uh, history, and government. I’m getting D’s in English and Science, C’s in Math, A’s in P.E.” There. Now Akashi knows just how hopeless he is.

 

 _A challenge, that's what this is_ , Akashi firmly tells himself, exhaling a slow breath. "That's workable. D's in English, huh? I suppose it's hard to pass those when your written Japanese is below average. Well, not for long." 

 

He sits back, satisfied with the chart he's drawn out, and saves the image file. "Message me your e-mail address. And throw Shintarou's pencil away, that thing is ridiculous." 

 

Kagami types his email address into the Skype box, then hits send immediately. “Don’t feel bad if it doesn’t help,” he says with a shrug. “Dad always said school wasn’t really my thing.”

 

"It sounds like to me like you just haven't had a proper tutor, especially considering the language barrier. You're not stupid; if you were, I wouldn't be talking to you," Akashi says frankly, and switches his camera back as he goes to send the e-mail. " _Aomine_ is hopeless." 

 

Kagami is pretty sure that he’s an idiot. Hell, his nickname is Bakagami, and Riko’s the number two in her class. If she doesn’t know, who does? “If you think so. I mean, I’ll try. I just get really bored if I have to study, you know?”

 

"Mm. You'd rather be playing basketball. Then, I'll just quiz you when we're doing that." Akashi pauses, and checks himself with a soft huff. "Alternatively--you can tell me to stop, just so you know. This is a bad habit of mine." _And I_ need _your grades to be better._

 

Kagami blinks. “Why would I tell you to stop when you’re trying to help me?” he asks, feeling as if he’s missed something. “Most people give up when they hear how dumb I am.”

 

"Some people don't want to hear it." Akashi shrugs. "Grades are just a number and a letter, you know. Anyone can churn out a 100 in a class if they know the formula to doing it…and it's easier if they have half a brain, and thankfully--" he says, picking up his homework again, "--you have a full one." 

 

It’s weird, Kagami decides, that something he doesn’t care about, like his brain, can suddenly become something he’s so proud of, all because someone hasn’t given up on it yet. He looks away, embarrassed, and grabs another bag of popcorn. “You want me to do tofu next time?” he asks, changing the subject. “I got some gypsum to try out as a coagulant, I heard that’s what most of the small shops in Kyoto use.”

 

Akashi immediately and obviously perks up at that. "Really? It was a joke of a suggestion last time, I'll be honest; I didn't know it would be that easy to try out." 

 

“I’ve, uh, been practicing.” Kagami hates his stupid embarrassed face, and covers that up by eating more. “I didn’t like the taste with lemon juice, and it came out too grainy with epsom salts, so we’re going with gypsum. I did some tests this week. Just, you know. In case.”

 

Those stupid, giddy butterflies are back again, and it's horrific when someone is there to see it happening. Akashi quickly turns his gaze back down into his homework to hide the immensely pleased expression on his face. "Ah. Well, I'm happy to be a taste tester if it's tofu. Apologies in advance, I'm not proud of being such a finicky eater…but if it's tofu, I'll basically always eat it." 

 

“Same,” Kagami admits. “I mean, I’ll eat most things, so that’s not that big a deal...I definitely did eat all the test batches.” It’s not like they were _bad_. They just weren’t exactly what he’d want to serve to a boyfriend who really likes tofu.

 

Akashi's sigh is a longing one, and he can't hide that. "Now you're making me hungry. That's really not fair, do you have any idea how much homework I have?" 

 

“Sorry. Should I...leave you to it?” _Don’t go. You’re so much better than TV and shooting practice._ Kagami looks up at the clock, and stares in surprise. “Shit, it’s late. Sorry to keep you, I should probably go too.”

 

"You're not keeping me up; I'm still on schedule." Akashi glances at his own clock regretfully. "I probably should go, though. Shall we resume tomorrow night, if you aren't busy?"

 

“I can be free.” That’s probably a better way of saying that no matter what he has planned, talking to Akashi sounds like a better plan. Kagami reaches up, then touches the screen gently where he’s sure Akashi can’t see him, and smiles a little. “Yeah. Good night.”

 

What's appropriate for a newly acquired boyfriend over Skype? Everything seems too forward as of yet, and Akashi _does_ mourn that. There's a vague awkward disconnect somewhere, between 'sex that's a little too good to be normal' and 'now, he's your boyfriend.' Hmm. To be analyzed at a later date. "Good night," Akashi softly says instead, settling on a little wave before reluctantly closing Skype for the night. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

There really isn’t any other way to feel, when he’s followed Akashi’s instructions that his class is held at Tokyo University, and he’ll be done by one pm, and that had somehow inspired his stupid brain to think it would be a good idea to go and meet him. He’d even called Todai and found out approximately where said class would be, and is now waiting (like an idiot) outside the classroom, even though Akashi certainly has a driver waiting. Dumber still, in his backpack (slung low to be cool), there are two handmade bentos, because apparently that’s how embarrassing he is right now. 

 

At the first sight of Akashi, however, those feelings vanish, and he waves like a lunatic, attracting only a tiny portion of attention from college students who clearly think he’s one of them, courtesy of his height. “Hey! Akashi!”

 

Akashi, face half-buried into his phone (which is almost certainly a game of Go at this point), startles hard enough that he nearly drops the device entirely. 

 

Delusions? He's had those before. This does not appear to be one of them, but rather, Kagami Taiga in the flesh. For some reason. 

 

He changes his course, already rapid-fire texting his driver--Midorima is meeting him instead, _obviously_ \--and after that, trots through the last wave of students. "Taiga--you didn't have to come meet me, I know it's out of your way." _I'm charmed, I'm pathetically, helplessly charmed and you look Very Good, damn it._

 

 _Thank god, he’s not mad, he’s not annoyed with me that I’m getting too clingy._ It had been a real risk. “I, uh, figured I’d rather be the guy that looks stupid doing something than the guy that’s afraid to look stupid,” he says, stuffing his hands into his sweatshirt pockets. “You wanna go back to my place together? The tofu should be pressed out by then.”

 

"…You don't look stupid. I'm flattered." 

 

Akashi flips open the top of his shoulder bag, tucking his phone away before reaching out and taking Kagami's elbow. It's a subtle touch, and one that he's always been able to get away with with Mibuchi in the past, so why not? "And I am _very_ ready to eat your tofu. I hope you didn't have to wait too long here." 

 

Kagami sets off, looking around to make sure no one looks too interested, and sets off down the road. “Nah, I was only there for like, ten minutes. Uh, I did bring a couple bentos, if you were too hungry to wait...but I guess it’s just me that gets that hungry. How was your class?” This is weirdly easy, and kind of fun, when it’s just the two of them behaving like a real couple.

 

"I'll save it, if you don't mind? I'm not the biggest eater and I have a tofu bias, I'm afraid. My class--" Akashi tries _very_ hard not to roll his eyes, and doesn't quite succeed. "Boring. It's a throw-away thing. The only positive is that I can complete assignments ahead of time, so I'll probably just take this week to do all of them. Then I won't have to think about it very much." 

 

“That’s good, right? And it’s kinda important for your grade, or something?” Kagami isn’t really sure how extra advance courses that aren’t make-up courses work, but that’s why he’s not smart like Akashi, he supposes.

 

"Mostly, it's important to make my father not bat an eye about why Tokyo is so interesting to me all of a sudden. And it's some college credit, but whatever." Akashi's face twists wry. "Unlike you, I don't get to be done after high school." 

 

“Heh. That sounds pretty shitty.” Kagami ruffles Akashi’s hair without thinking of it, then wraps an arm around his neck. “At least you’ll have me to distract you with NBA tickets, right?”

 

Akashi blinks, swaying into Kagami's side. It takes a second to process having his hair mussed and being treated with such easy, unabashed affection, and still reeling (and somewhat flushed, in spite of himself), all he can say is, "I'm going to guess the Lakers." 

 

“Depends on if they want me,” Kagami says honestly. “I mean, most great players get traded a few times in their careers. As long as I keep getting better and I keep growing a bunch, I’ll probably have a shot at playing for a great team, and maybe eventually the ones I want.” His arm slides down to wrap easily around Akashi’s shoulders as they walk, and it’s strange how natural the cadence of their legs feel. “Sorry, I’ll go on about basketball all day if you let me.”

 

"Don't apologize, I like hearing about it." How does he say _I literally already knew everything that you told me because I've researched this in-depth on the off-chance of a pipe dream coming true_ without sounding half-know-it-all, half-pathetic? Better to not say it at all. "But the Lakers _are_ your favorite," Akashi lightly confirms instead. "Just a guess from your screen name." 

 

“Oh, yeah. Lakers forever, that’s not the issue. You know, when I do get into the NBA finally, and I’m playing for them on a professional basis--I’ll get to see the Lakers as many times as I want. My dad got me courtside season tickets when I lived over there, and I used to take Tatsuya when he’d come, or sometimes Alex, and it was _awesome_. Sometimes now I stay up all night just so I can watch the games real-time. It really doesn’t help with jet-lag, though...” Kagami’s voice waxes almost poetic at those memories, the best parts of Los Angeles (and America) as they turn onto his street.

 

"I've actually never traveled out of the country. It must be nice, being able to do that, and to really see the NBA play…" Akashi trails off, vaguely wistful. "Was it just a rumor, or did you really go back to America before the Winter Cup to train? It's no small wonder that your play style is the way that it is…"  

 

“Really American, huh?” Kagami asks, raising one eyebrow. “The jumping, I mean. A lot of people say that. Yeah, I go back any time I’m not sure...how to grow, you know?”

 

"The word I was looking for was 'authentic', but we'll go with American, I suppose." Akashi arches an eyebrow right back at him. "The _American_ part is your incessant need to dunk. Everywhere. All the time. Because it's _cool_." _The point is, take me with you the next time you go!_ Filed in: things he will not say.

 

“Dunking is _really_ cool,” Kagami says, only mildly defensive. “Man, if you could see Kobe and Nash dunk, you’d _know_ it was awesome. You should--I mean, that’s--it would be great if--” His ears turn pink, and he mumbles, “You know, sometime. You should come.” 

 

Fortunately, they’ve arrived at his apartment building, and the doorman buzzes him in on sight.

 

"Invitation very much accepted, but I'm afraid nothing will come of it. Don't buy me a ticket as a surprise or anything; I'm not allowed to leave the country." Akashi sighs heavily. "But it's still nice to think about, isn't it? Stuff me in your suitcase, maybe." 

 

“Cute,” Kagami mutters. Fortunately, it’s a quick elevator ride up to his place, and the tofu serves as an excellent distraction once he’s inside. “Oh, sweet, it turned out good. Have a seat, I’ll make you up a plate.”

 

Akashi would be a liar to say that he hasn't been looking forward to this since it was mentioned, and it's with that eagerness in mind that he toes off his shoes and peels himself out of his jacket to take a seat very contently at the kitchen table. "If you can make good, Kyoto-style tofu," he says with all seriousness, "you're going to have a hard time ever getting rid of me." 

 

“If it’s not right now, it will be soon,” Kagami says with a shrug, and takes out a large earthenware bowl, setting the tofu on to simmer in his own blend of mirin, soy, and herbs. He leans back against the counter as it heats, eyes tracing over Akashi’s shoulders. “God. You’re _really_ hot.”

 

It's the abrupt way that Kagami says it that makes Akashi flush more than anything. Really, he has long considered himself impervious to those kinds of comments--Kagami, yet again, for the exception. "You're rather nice to look at as well, you know," he says, dropping his chin into one hand. "It's a very rugged kind of handsome." 

 

“Rugged, huh?” Kagami looks at himself sideways in the mirror over the shelf, and thinks that’s probably a compliment. “I never went camping or anything. It’s definitely just an optical illusion or whatever.”

 

"Mm, no, that's exactly your type. More commonly termed the 'wild type', I think." Akashi's head tilts as he watches Kagami, and he comments idly before he even can help himself: "And even if it's casual, you dress so _well_." 

 

“I know it sounds really snotty to say I only wear American brands,” Kagami says, looking down at the kitchen floor and his socked feet, “but nothing Japanese really fits. American stuff is more...I dunno, unless you’re buying the really crappy stuff it’s usually pretty good at the places I shop. What’s this wild type thing? Would you be the ‘elegant type,’ or am I doing it wrong?”

 

"It doesn't sound snotty at all, especially when I just complimented you. Ah…I don't remember how Momoi classified me; she had a full breakdown of Teiko's team as a reverse harem at one point, and admittedly, I didn't pay much attention because it's ridiculous. I just know that you're the one type that I tend to favor." Akashi's eyebrows raise, a smirk hidden behind his fingers. "You think I'm elegant, though?" 

 

“Yeah.” Kagami leans back against the counter, refusing to be shy about it. “Your way of talking? And the way you move. And your face, it’s like, you don’t want to call a guy pretty, but it’s not _handsome_ \--or it is, but not what other people think of as classically handsome. It’s elegant. Like you. Am I getting the word wrong?”

 

Kagami is so, so… _charming_ , and Akashi feels himself slinking down in his seat slightly, unable to stand it. "No--that's the word you're looking for. You're _very_ flattering, you know that?" He helplessly crooks a finger. "Come here." 

 

Kagami spares a look at the tofu and deems that it has at least a few minutes left to heat. He pushes off of the kitchen counter, then walks around the table, tilting Akashi’s chair back just enough to straddle him, eyes alight. “You want me?”

 

It's not like he can stop himself from grabbing at the front of Kagami's shirt and pulling him down or anything. Patience and caution and self-control aside, Akashi still knows himself to be human, and male, and _sixteen_ , damn it all. "Kuroko is so, _so_ stupid," he hears himself mutter before he lurches up, his mouth hungry as it crushes against Kagami's.

 

That feels good in a hell of a lot more ways than one. Kagami kind of wants to agree-- _he_ thinks Kuroko is stupid for throwing away their relationship, too--but far more important is Akashi’s mouth hot and demanding on his, Akashi’s hands tugging him down, Akashi’s body solid and surprisingly strong against his own. “Careful,” he murmurs, hands coming up to card through Akashi’s hair, his breath already starting to hiccup and catch. “I’ll forget about the tofu if you keep doing that.”

 

Akashi huffs, slumping back and trying not to look like a child that has very, very literally been told that he can't have his cake and eat it, too. He fails. "I very much want to eat your tofu," he grouses, and impulsively arches up again, his hands dragging down to boldly grab at Kagami's ass, hauling him further into his lap when his teeth snap at the side of Kagami's neck, "but I want to eat you, too. Stop making this difficult." 

 

Kagami groans, sort of enamored at the fact that he’s in someone’s lap, and that person isn’t currently muttering that he’s crushing them, and strong hands are grabbing at him. “I can always, uh, turn it down to simmer? Maybe it’ll be better after a long time...” Is that how tofu works? Right now, Kagami just plain forgets how food works.

 

"Fine, whatever." Damn, but it takes _effort_ to release Kagami and give him a shove that encourages him to leave Akashi's lap to do just that. He slumps back in his chair, reaching up with a shaky hand to loosen his tie. "I'll eat it either way. Come back over here." 

 

Kagami turns the flame down as low as it will go without going out, and immediately makes his way back to Akashi, settling onto his lap even if he keeps most of his weight on his tensed legs. “I’m not crushing you, right?”

 

"Not even a little." Thankfully, like this, the height difference isn't so much of a problem…and Kagami is _clearly_ used to someone complaining about how heavy he is. Unnecessary, that. Akashi grabs again, particularly enthusiastic about kneading his fingers into the firm muscle of Kagami's ass this time, and pulls him forward and down. "Do I need to princess carry you to prove that this is fine?" he lowly teases, mouth hot against the side of Kagami's neck again. " _Honestly_." 

 

“Carry, huh?” Kagami murmurs, nibbling at Akashi’s ear in turn, careful not to bite hard enough to leave marks. His hands move, plucking at the neatly tucked-in shirt, sliding up underneath to run over warm skin, marveling at the dense muscle tone there. “I think I know better than to dare you to--but I can walk, I don’t want you to strain something before I put you through your paces in the bedroom.” Even saying something like that makes Kagami heat up under the collar, marveling at his own lewd audacity.

 

Akashi exhales a breathless laugh at that, his fingers sliding up to hook into Kagami's empty belt loops and tug. It takes extreme effort not to suck at Kagami's neck hard enough to leave a mark, and he resents that very, very much. "Put _me_ through _my_ paces? Now you sound like the pushy one. Very cute." 

 

“I’m definitely not cute,” Kagami grumbles, even when his hips roll forward as Akashi tugs on his belt loops. “I’m manly. And wild, you said so.” 

 

His hands tug at the end of Akashi’s shirt, and that’s enough incentive. He stands, pulling Akashi after him by the front of his shirt, all the way to the bedroom to land in a bouncing tangle of limbs. “Enough of that,” he breathes, nearly ripping off his shirt, kicking off his cargo pants. “I want to fuck.”

 

"Noted," Akashi breathlessly, and _very_ happily agrees as he untangles himself long enough to sit back onto his knees, yanking his tie off completely with a swift pull and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt one-handedly. There's no stopping the way his other hand drags up Kagami's stomach, every perfect, hard muscle, and he has to pause to breathe normally for a second. "Your body," he mutters, lunging forward to mouth a hot, wet kiss underneath Kagami's chin, "is incredible." 

 

 _I’m literally going to die if we don’t have sex in the next few minutes_ , Kagami thinks, as his brain short-circuits the second he sees Akashi rip off his tie. “Make me a video of you undressing and I’ll throw out all my porn,” he groans, flopping backwards and dragging Akashi down on top of him, hands wandering over hard muscled shoulders and a sculpted back, every touch sending flares of white-hot arousal through his body and straight to his cock.

 

"Done." The thought of Kagami actually jerking off to a video of that--whoops, arousing times ten. Akashi huffs out a hot breath against Kagami's shoulder, biting down again as he grinds forward between his legs, _pretty sure_ he can get his pants off before he comes at this rate, dear god. He focuses on that for a second, _not_ on getting his hands all over those muscles, and kicks his slacks off in short order. "How do you want to do it?" Akashi breathes, eyes bright and eager, his tongue flicking out to wet his lower lip. _I've thought about this all week and it doesn't get any easier to narrow it down in person even if we did it at least four times last weekend when I showed up out of the blue._

 

Kagami’s eyes track inevitably, predictably down, until he has to wipe a hand over his mouth to rub off the drool. “Uh. Gimme.” 

 

He kicks off his boxers, sitting up on the bed and reaching out with all the determination of a man who knows what he wants. “I want your dick.” _However you want to give it to me--in my hand, in my mouth, anywhere, I need to touch it--_

 

It’s only with Akashi that he’s been able to say even a few of those words aloud. Maybe it’s because unlike the other men who’ve seen him naked, Akashi has never seemed to think that it’s funny when he acts like he wants cock.

 

"F-fine, but--be merciful for two seconds, you're _really_ pushing the right buttons," Akashi hurriedly manages the second that Kagami's  fingers curl around him, and it's like the breath has been ripped from his lungs. Hah, right, his sex drive had been bad enough before, and now there's _Kagami_. 

 

Being around Kagami is a reminder that it's _a very good thing_ and that said buttons are pushed about as naturally as Kagami possesses talent on a basketball court. It's a blessing and a curse, and Akashi groans as he grinds forward, his hands clawing their way up into Kagami's hair. "Do you want me to fuck you?" he asks, out of breath and very much unable to censor himself when _there's a hand on his cock._  

 

“Yeah,” Kagami admits shamelessly. He sits up on his knees, all his attention on the thick cock between Akashi’s thighs, his large calloused hand tracing over its hard contours. He runs his fingertips through the sticky dripping liquid at the tip, and he swallows hard. “If you don’t have the patience it’s fine, I can suck you off...” He chances a look up at Akashi’s face, hoping he doesn’t see mockery there for how eager, how _slutty_ he must sound.

 

Akashi's breath sucks in raggedly, his hands sliding to Kagami's shoulders where his fingers knead and squeeze. His eyes are lidded and dark, and he swallows, watching the way Kagami's hand moves over his cock before he tears his gaze away, meeting Kagami's instead. "Later. Now you've got a good idea in my head, I'm not passing it up." He grabs at that big hand, pulling it away no matter how much effort it takes, and brings it to his own mouth, tongue flicking over those sticky fingers--bitterness, sweat, it all kind of makes Akashi shudder and crawl forward, pretty sure that he's going to die if he doesn't get to _do this_ now. "Tell me how you like it." 

 

_Shit. He had to ask that._

 

Kagami’s cock twitches at every brush of Akashi’s hand, his mouth over his fingers, and he reaches down to squeeze his own cock to keep himself from going off too soon. He takes the opportunity to wind strong arms around Akashi’s neck, pulling him into a slow, hot kiss, his tongue darting out against Akashi’s lips. “Don’t laugh,” he mumbles against Akashi’s lips, “but I haven’t done it before. With another guy, like that. But I want to.”

 

 _Why would I ever laugh?_ It's not as if Kagami had laughed at him when Akashi had told him he'd never done this before. "Sorry," Akashi breathes instead, leaning into the kiss eagerly, his hands splaying out over the hard muscle of Kagami's thighs. "You've been my teacher in a few other things, but I suppose you've taught me enough that I can take care of you here, hmm?" 

 

Kagami’s mouth curves up against Akashi’s, and he relaxes back under the touch, reveling in the feel of those calloused fingers against his thighs, feeling his cock twitch at every touch no matter how innocent--and none of those touches are exactly innocent. “Yeah. I’ll be in your care.” He’s said some variation of those words before, but not like this, and not with a man leaning on top of him, with a hard body and warm breath and _intentions_.

 

Akashi nips lightly at Kagami's lower lip before he sits back with a hitching little sigh. "Where did you stash everything from last time?" The only memory he has of it is clothes and bottles and wrappers going _everywhere_. At least they're a bit bit more on top of it this time. 

 

“Oh, right.” Kagami rolls to the side, grabbing a small key from his nightstand drawer, then unlocking a metal box under the bed, dragging it up to reveal condoms and lube, along with some stashed porn (and a slender rubber shape hidden beneath a few issues of _G Magazine_ and _JustUsFreshmen_ ). “Yeah, there’s some different sizes, hold on...here, these should fit.”

 

"My god, you're high level," Akashi lightly sighs, taking the condom and lube without batting an eye. "I have to keep _everything_ at my dorm room, and even then I feel vaguely compromised on a weekly basis. Mm, will you turn over? I get the impression you're not as flexible as I am--which we can work on later, of course," he airily says, the glitter in his eyes making it _very_ much a promise. 

 

A shiver goes through Kagami’s body, and he turns over, shifting a bit to get into a decent position. His hands clench on the bedsheets, and he gets his knees under himself, warring with awkward embarrassment and the conviction that Akashi is going to think he looks stupid like this. “Like--this? Or some other way...”

 

"Perfect." 

 

Kagami's back is absolutely something to be admired, which is why Akashi can't really stop himself from crawling closer again, his mouth hot on Kagami's shoulders, the jut of his shoulder blades, down the bumps of his spine. "Your body is _distracting_ ," he breathes, snaking a hand around to drag it down the hard muscle of Kagami's chest, thumbing absently over a nipple. "You're not allowed to play shirtless against me, I think. You might win." 

 

Kagami lets out a strangled groan, dropping his head down to the pillows to muffle the noise as he shoves helplessly against Akashi’s hand. _Kagami-kun has very sensitive breasts_ , Kuroko’s deadpan says in his memory, and he claps a hand over his mouth.

 

Well. He doesn't need Emperor Eye to catch _that_ reaction. "Ahh…let's lay off of that for a second, then," Akashi murmurs, drawing his hand back and grabbing for the lube instead as he settles onto his knees. "Can you come just from that? I've heard that's a thing…" 

 

“N-not by myself.” Kagami forces out the words, even if they make his face burn. “But when, when it’s someone else...yeah, sometimes.” At least Akashi doesn’t seem intent on making fun of the way his body reacts. His nipple tingles, and he rubs it absently before returning his hand to the sheets, letting that tingle spread through his body, heat pooling low in his belly.

 

"Mm, then we're not so different." More details on that later, when they are not both so distracted and preoccupied, and the throb of his cock when Akashi watches Kagami is enough to make his eyes glaze. His fingers are slick when the first one drags against Kagami's hole, and Akashi's breath catches up in his throat when it sinks inside. "Just tell me…if I go too fast, all right?" 

 

Kagami makes a fist, thumping it against the bed with a long groan when that first finger slides into him. It’s slick and cool, and his hole twitches around it. It’s different than when he does it himself--mostly because it’s so hard to reach like that--and he has to remind himself not to tense up too much, focusing on the strange, foreign sensation. “It’s--fine. Ahh, really nice, actually...”

 

"Good--because you feel…so nice like this." 

 

Akashi licks at his lips, glancing briefly up at the ceiling to _calm down and focus_ , which is easier said than done, apparently. His other hand is at least distracted with stroking and kneading into the muscle of Kagami's back when he carefully adds a second finger, curling and spreading them and feeling the way Kagami's body twitches around him. "Taiga," he mutters, his voice low and throaty, "no promises about how long I'm going to last when I'm finally in you." 

 

“Don’t _do_ it if you’re not gonna do it right,” Kagami mutters, without any real annoyance behind the words. It’s hard to be annoyed when he’s already sweating and tensing, squeezing down on those fingers just because it feels so good to have them inside, to have Akashi touching his back gently. “Ah--I’m, I’m pretty close, too.”

 

"Even if I haven't done something before, I always do it right," is Akashi's quip without a whole lot of care behind it, and ah, damn it, Kagami didn't have to _tell him_ that he was close, too, that just makes it even more unfair. 

 

He fumbles for the condom when he pulls his hand away, ripping open the package in short order. Touching his own cock in this particular moment is a test of patience _surely_ , and it's only with great determination that he doesn't lose his mind. "I hope this is as good as you wanted," he murmurs, mouthing a kiss to Kagami's back for that first push inside. 

 

Kagami lets out a whimper, burying his face in the bedsheets and shoving back onto Akashi’s cock mindlessly, biting into his own pillow. He shifts, getting his knees farther apart, spreading his thighs as if it’ll help him accommodate the stretch of that thick cock in his ass, slowly spreading his hole as it slides into him. His cock leaks freely over the sheets, and Kagami feels it drag over the damp fabric with electric intensity with every motion, making him shudder down to his curling toes. “Fuck me,” he breathes, shoving his ass back, wanting to be filled even more, taken and fucked hard by Akashi.

 

The last little bit of his effort spent clinging to self-control snaps, and Akashi gives in with a breathy, broken noise, grabbing at Kagami's hips, the sheets, whatever he can, and shoves in hard. 

 

Kagami feels like pure, concentrated heat, tight and perfect and slick around him, and Akashi groans as he bites at the back of Kagami's shoulders. "Taiga," he pants out, blinking away the sweat that drips into his eyes, and he grinds forward hard, digging his knees into the bed to better _force_ himself into a rhythm that they both need to make this last. "You're _perfect_." 

 

It only takes a few hard snaps of Akashi’s hips before Kagami loses it. Pleasure crashes over him, through him, and he trembles as heat shoots through his body, and he spills himself on the bed in what feels like more wet heat than he’s ever shot off at once, a long, drawn-out motion that forces him to keep _going_. He grinds back on Akashi’s cock, blinking away tears as he does. “K-keep going, don’t stop, fuck, you feel so good, make me come so hard, don’t fucking stop--”

 

 _Well, shit, that's really hot._ Akashi can't help the ragged, strangled noise that escapes, especially when he tries to stop himself from coming _immediately_ after watching and _feeling_ Kagami come like that. "Pretty sure I can't stop," he breathlessly laughs, and now he has no issues with a hand pawing up to drag over one of Kagami's nipples, pulling and twisting as their skin slaps together with every hard thrust. "Like that, maybe?" 

 

Kagami cries out, the muscles in his thighs quivering and threatening to let him fall as he grabs at the sheets, shoving back harder. His chest aches, his balls ache with the renewed arousal having already come, and he can feel himself drooling with every thrust as his body comes back to life without a second’s rest. “J-just like that, fuck me, feels so good--h-harder...”

 

He’s never wanted anything more than he wants Akashi to fuck him up right now, to manhandle him and _hold him_ where he wants him, to fuck into him until he’s screaming and hoarse and _full_. “C-come in me-- _please_ \--” he hears himself beg.

 

It's not like it's a _difficult_ request, when Kagami looks like _that_. 

 

Akashi's other hand digs into the sheets as he grinds in hard and deep, panting into the back of Kagami's neck, biting, kissing, sucking on whatever skin he can reach. He's not gentle about the way he pulls and plays with that nipple, nor does he really pay attention to anything except what feels good to _him_ when he's fucking Kagami. Kagami's reactions prove that it's fine, that like this, that's what they _both_ want. 

 

Akashi voice is muffled into Kagami's back when he comes, his fingers pinching hard before his knees buckle and he has to let both hands dig into the bed, feeling very much like his bones have turned to liquid what with how he shakes and trembles. 

 

Kagami lets out a dry sob, collapsing down to the bed the second Akashi’s strong hands let him go. His blood throbs in his ears, heart racing as his body refuses to accept that it’s _over_ , hard cock aching against one thigh. “Seijuurou,” he breathes, grabbing Akashi’s hand and forcing it to his cock. “Just--won’t take long--” There’s no way he can drag his mind through a sentence of _sometimes I need to do it twice to get soft, especially if someone hot like you is fiddling with my chest,_ not when he’s this turned on.

 

His mind is a cloudy, muddled thing post-orgasm, but his name drags him back with an odd shudder of arousal. That's new, and _good_. "I've got you," Akashi hears himself groan, his trembling fingers curling around Kagami's cock, squeezing, stroking when his other hand fumbles its way back to Kagami's nipples. "Whatever you want--"

 

Akashi, thank god, _gets it_. Kagami humps shamelessly into Akashi’s hand, dragging the other one to his nipple, grabbing the other one himself, because what good is being humiliated at this point?

 

Like this, it takes less than a minute before his whole body tenses, and he comes with a shout, spilling over his stomach and a final whimper as he sinks down to the bed. “Th-thanks. _God_.”

 

Akashi gingerly, delicately pulls out, vaguely wrinkling his nose at the condom and remembering it tie it off at the last second before tossing it into the trash. "Well," he breathlessly says, flopping onto his back, " _that_ was fun." 

 

“We can, uh, pretty much do that any time,” Kagami agrees, wiping the back of one hand over his sweat-soaked forehead. “So. We learned something, huh?” His ass twitches, odd and slick and rather sore.

 

"Mmhm." Akashi rolls onto his side, staring at Kagami through his lashes. "A few things. Nipples, hmm? That's so convenient." 

 

Kagami tenses, ready to get defensive--but there’s no mockery there that he can see. “It’s not that weird,” he says, hoping he doesn’t sound embarrassed. “Lots of guys like that kind of thing.”

 

"I know. It's nice, because it's not something that leaves marks or is awkward or anything…" Akashi sighs lightly. "I've come just by having Reo go to town on my neck before," he wryly admits. "But that's so inconvenient…hickeys for days, nigh impossible to hide. And the other one--you'll really laugh at me." 

 

“I had a feeling about your neck,” Kagami admits, relaxing when Akashi doesn’t seem inclined to tease him. “What’s the other one? I won’t laugh.”

 

"But it's _so_ Japanese. I do know the stereotypes." Akashi has to roll his eyes at himself. "It's--oh, fine, I have sensitive feet. It's always interesting when someone tries to give me a rubdown. Some of my sempai used to get very flustered about it, but it's not _my_ fault."

 

“That’s really cute.” Kagami intends to reach a foot over and brush it over Akashi’s, but his leg spasms out and lays right back down. “Huh. Okay. Lots of exercise in an unfamiliar position. You wore me the hell out.” He could sound _less_ pleased.

 

"You're not allowed to be so worn out," Akashi scolds, sitting up with a huff. "I still want your tofu, you know." 

 

“Heh. Yeah.” Kagami forces himself to roll to the side, feet hitting the floor with a thud. He stands, stretching out wobbly limbs, and tugs on a pair of boxers from the hamper, not bothering to find the ones he’d discarded. “Come on, before we get stiff or fall asleep.”

 

Akashi claws his way across the bed and out of it, grabbing the first shirt in sight--not his own, which is becoming a comfortably normal thing. It falls neatly to the middle of his thighs, and Akashi stretches before trotting after Kagami. "We can do that _after_ tofu. I have approval to stay in Tokyo for the duration of the weekend, if you don't mind my company until Sunday night…" 

 

“The longer you stay, the better,” Kagami calls over his shoulder with absolutely no shame. He dons an apron, then two oven mitts, grabbing the earthenware bowl from its simmer and carrying it carefully to the table. “I actually think the longer simmer time worked, the texture is really nice.” 

 

A dish of sauce and pair of carved chopsticks are next to be placed in front of Akashi, and then in front of Kagami’s own place before he sits. “Finally. Ready to give the verdict?”

 

Akashi settles down with a firm nod. "Very much so. Thank you for the meal." 

 

Picky eater he might be, he does consider himself a fine surveyor of tofu. The first touch of it to his tongue makes him melt back into his seat, and his eyes close in pleasure. "You," Akashi announces after a moment, and immediately dives back in for another piece, "could consider _other_ careers. Like cooking this for the rest of your life. For me."

 

Kagami pops a few cubes into his mouth, chewing as slowly as he can force himself, and his eyebrows raise. “You know, it’s not bad. Yeah, I can make this for you again next time. Does the sauce need tweaking?”

 

"Nope. God, but this makes Tokyo more tolerable," Akashi groans, sagging back and popping another piece into his mouth after drowning it in sauce. "You're an excellent cook." 

 

“Yeah?” Kagami slurps up a few more pieces, replenishing a good chunk of the energy they’d burned off earlier. “I mean, I just do it for myself so I’m not starving or depending on takeout all the time, but...it’s really relaxing. More fun when I’m doing it for someone, though.”

 

"Let it be known that I'm willing to be your frequent test subject. Not just with tofu." Akashi slows down, _marginally_ , but his tofu is definitely disappearing rapidly. "My father actually prefers Western food at home, which I'm sort of ambivalent about…then again, I'm ambivalent about most Japanese food. I think I could live off of tofu, mostly." 

 

“Burgers, for me. Japanese food is just...it doesn’t really fill me up. I know, big surprise, Kagami is usually hungry.” At least he’s made a lot of tofu, he notes, because Akashi is eating with the kind of gusto that usually he only sees in the mirror. “I miss Mexican really bad when I’m over here. I go on burrito binges whenever I’m back in the States.”

 

"With the amount of calories you burn through, it's no surprise. I'm not going to nag you about your nutritional choices right now, because you're feeding me and I like that." 

 

“I bet you do. Seriously...I know you said you’re not allowed to leave the country, but you should really let me take you to California someday. The food will blow your mind.” Kagami might already have some plans. “Plus the basketball, of course.”

 

"I already told you, stuff me into your suitcase," Akashi wryly says, popping his last piece of tofu into his mouth. "It'll be an adventure." 

 

Footsteps outside of the apartment door make Akashi glance up, but he thinks nothing of it in the silence that follows until a key starts to turn in the lock. 

 

Kagami’s eyes go wide, and he’s on his feet so fast his chair goes sliding backward as he does the only thing he can think of. He grabs Akashi by the waist, hisses, “ _Clothes!_ ” then throws him through the open bedroom door to land on his bed, about four yards away. Just in time, as Kagami grabs a discarded sweater from the back of the couch and throws it on half a second before the door opens. “Uh, hey, Dad!” _I am definitely in a sweater and boxers, standing in front of dinner for two, and there are unwrapped condoms and gay porn inside my open bedroom, along with my very gay boyfriend wearing my shirt. Nailed it._

 

 _I was absolutely just dunked into a bed,_ Akashi dimly thinks amidst the dull, throbbing panic that spreads across his mind. In any other situation, that would be _very_ arousing. Right now, it's definitely something out of a nightmare. 

 

_Get it together, Akashi Seijuurou!_

 

Kagami Takashi barely even glances at his son as he steps into the apartment, shoes still on as he steps past the door. "Taiga. I was going to call, but my flight changed suddenly. I thought you might be out, anyway--" He pauses, taking note of the scene, his eyebrows climbing. "Do you have company over?"

 

Not two seconds after that question was asked, Akashi emerges from the bedroom, fully dressed, shirt tucked in and with his tie neatly tied, and deftly pulls the door behind himself. "Ah--my apologies, you must be Kagami-san." 

 

Takashi doesn't have a chance to comment before Akashi bows formally, presenting an embossed business card from his pocket. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Akashi Seijuurou, I'm Kagami-kun's tutor." 

 

"…What a relief," Takashi mutters, bowing back on reflex as he takes the card. "Last time I came home, you were with all of those thug friends of yours. Good on you, Taiga." 

 

Kagami is torn between wanting to argue that _Seirin’s basketball team aren’t thugs, Dad,_ but more important is that this goes right, or as right as it can when he’s absolutely not expecting this. “I, uh, took what you were saying about my grades to heart,” he says, hoping it doesn’t sound like a lie. “Akashi is number one in freshman year, so he’s helping me. There’s tofu, I made tofu if you’re hungry.”

 

"You _made_ tofu?" Takashi incredulously replies. "You can do that?" 

 

"Kagami-kun is a very good cook, it turns out." Akashi pulls out a thin stack of flashcards from his back pocket. "At any rate, I hate to be rude, but I have your son on a very strict regime if he's to bring his grades up to standard…"

 

"By all means, whip him into shape. He needs to get his head in gear about something that's not basketball for a change." Takashi briefly pats Kagami on the shoulder before brushing past him. "I'm going to take a nap before my flight is gone, so I won't be in your way. Just keep it down."

 

Akashi waits until Kagami's father disappears down the hallway to his own, usually unused bedroom, and the door shuts behind him before he looks up at Kagami, eyebrows raised. "I told you parents like me," he sweetly says in a whisper, lightly swatting his shoulder with the flashcards. " _Kagami-kun._ " 

 

Kagami collapses into his chair with a huge exhalation of breath, feeling as if his bones have liquefied. His heart thuds in his chest, and he brushes the hair back from his face with a grimace. “Holy shit. That was fucking _close_.” 

 

He grabs Akashi, yanking him into the bedroom, and immediately jumps into a pair of jeans, just in case, before tidying up the mess on the bed, locking everything securely back up in its metal container before sliding the box under the bed. The key goes in his sock drawer, inside a folded pair. “Yeah, so, that’s my dad. He’ll be gone in like, an hour.”

 

"That's awful," Akashi bluntly says, feeling his own legs turn to noodles the moment he allows himself to breathe properly, and he sits down onto the end of the bed. "Does he do this often? Show up out of the blue and make people wish for death?" 

 

“Heh. Coming from someone with a dad like yours, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or what.” Kagami throws himself back onto the bed with a groan. “It’s a good apartment, by the way, he can’t hear shit all the way down there. Trust me, I’ve tested it with a friend, having one stand in his room and yell. _Man_. He does this every...I dunno, couple months? You’ll know he’s been here for a day if there’s beer in the fridge. Otherwise I actually usually miss him, because I’m at school or on the court.”

 

"At least my father is predictably…what he is." Akashi flops backward next to him, staring up at the ceiling. "Thank God I've had it beaten into me to carry business cards around. And what even are _these_ for--" He squints at the flashcards in his hand. "Organic chemistry. A class you're obviously not taking. Excellent. Whatever, it worked." 

 

“You think my dad is any better at kanji than I am?” Kagami asks, raising an eyebrow. “He’s way worse. Ugh, just kill me. How the hell did you put that all together so fast?”

 

"Taiga." Akashi reaches over, laying a hand on Kagami's thigh as he says, a mix vaguely amused and at the same time, quite serious, "However paranoid you think you are, I'm at least twenty times worse. That's a drill I've run through my head a thousand times, and tested no less than a dozen."

 

“Well, that’s crazy, but it freaking worked, so I guess it’s awesome.” Kagami looks down at himself and frowns. “I can’t believe he didn’t notice I was in my underpants. I have a feeling your dad would have figured that one out.”

 

"You are never going to be around my father, so that's not going to be an issue." Akashi shuts his eyes, and exhales the last bit of his tension. "Even if it worked, that wasn't enjoyable. So many people complain about dorm life, but it works wonders for privacy…" 

 

“I’d hate living in a place that was all cramped like that, though,” Kagami says with a sigh. “All the dorms I looked at when I moved to Japan were freaking tiny. I’m a big guy, I need some space. Plus, no kitchens.”

 

"At Rakuzan, the dorms aren't like that. I understand that not to be the standard, but Eikichi certainly hasn't ever had any complaints, and he has a shared room with Koutarou. Oh, and there are definitely kitchens. Reo would lose his mind if there weren't." 

 

Kagami makes a face. “Shared rooms? That sounds kinda stressful. What do you do when you want to...you know...?”

 

Akashi blinks at him impassively. "Tell them to get out, I'm assuming? I don't know, I have a single." 

 

“Eh, I guess that wouldn’t be so bad. I dunno, anything’s better than living with my dad all the time in L.A. He’s always trying to get me to move back there.”

 

"It's really not bad at all. Honestly, I rarely spend any time in my room; between school and practice and spending time with everyone, it's mostly just at night when I have to do homework or catch up on my games online." Akashi hesitates, glancing to the side. "You'd like Rakuzan."

 

“Sounds like too much homework. Plus, you know, Kyoto. Hell of a commute.” Kagami stretches out, his feet dangling off the bed. “I only came to Seirin on a whim, you know. I thought back then that everywhere in Japan was the same, because no one was good enough to beat me.” _Not that I was entirely wrong._ “Dad actually wanted me to go to Rakuzan, I think.”

 

"It's the top school in Kyoto and in the top three of Japan, so I'm not surprised." Akashi turns onto his side, curling up slightly. "You won't win next year, at Seirin. You've already drawn out the maximum potential of your team." 

 

“There’s always the first years,” Kagami says with a shrug. “Maybe yours will suck and mine will be great. I dunno, anything could happen. Maybe Seirin won’t even have a fucking team.”

 

"The only thing I need is a power forward." 

 

Kagami had missed the gentle prod at the topic the other night, and Akashi had gotten distracted with kanji teaching nonsense. Now, however, he's going to make his point _clear_. "I have three of the Uncrowned Kings for another year's worth of tournaments, and myself. What I need is a power forward that can match our skill." 

 

“Heh. Yeah. That’s what made it so that we could...”

 

The words die in Kagami’s mouth when he hears the implication behind them. He looks over at Akashi, who is looking extremely elegant and handsome and pleased with himself, as well as extremely intent on his reactions. “Oh. You mean me. Going there.”

 

"Yes. I mean you. Going there." Akashi scoots over another couple of centimeters, intently staring. "We would win _everything_."

 

“You know I already have a team, right?” The words don’t carry as much weight as Kagami wants them to--not when he knows full well how different everything will be next year. Kiyoshi is gone, Riko will be busy with school if not outright gone, and Kuroko...

 

"A team that doesn't know how to use you properly." Akashi's lips purse, and he sits up huffily. "Do you know how infuriating it is to watch?"

 

Kagami tilts his head to one side. “Why, because we beat you guys anyway? Riko’s just not huge on power forwards, she says they’re not versatile enough. She’ll probably have me as center next year.”

 

Akashi's eyes flash, and he _has_ to look away to draw in a steadying breath, uttering a silent prayer for strength and _calm_. "We're not going to talk about our match," he says. "But what we're going to talk about is the fact that a power forward should be the most versatile, powerful piece on the court--in chess," he snaps, looking back with a jab of a finger in Kagami's direction, "you'd be the queen. You should be scoring more than anyone, more mobile than anyone, capable of inside and outside shots at any time, any place--a piece that's a measure of power and a barometer for strength. I've made do without, but it cannot be ignored any longer."

 

“I could say some stuff about the way different people run teams,” Kagami says, trying to choose his words not to offend “But...I dunno, all teams are different, right? At least you guys all seem to get along. Except that Mayuzumi motherfucker. No offense.”

 

"Your talent would be _wasted_ as a center, though." He's just shy of stamping his foot. Mismanagement, a pet peeve? Who would think! This is just absurd, however, and Akashi rapidly tries to think of a better way to explain it. "It's one thing to run teams differently; it's something else to simply be 'making do.' That's what your coach would be doing, and that's no way to win. And we're not talking about Chi…Mayuzumi, he's a non-factor." 

 

“I dunno. We might get a good center as a first year. It could happen.”

 

Kagami rolls to the side, and faces Akashi head-on, looking him in the eye. “Or...you could actually ask me what you’re trying to bully me into thinking of on my own.”

 

"I'm not bullying you," Akashi defensively mutters, leaning back with a quiet huff. Right. He _has_ been told that he's very intense when he has a _plan_. He breathes in slowly, briefly shutting his eyes. "I already told you. I want you as a power forward." 

 

“That’s not asking, Seijuurou.”

 

"…Oh. Fair enough." Akashi's mouth twists faintly. "Then--will you consider coming to Rakuzan and joining our team? This is a formal invitation from me, as Rakuzan's captain." 

 

“I’ll think about it.” Kagami reaches out, and brushes a hand over Akashi’s cheek. “I mean it. I’ll talk to my dad. Hell, he’d probably be happy he doesn’t have to keep this place. I mean, I’m not saying I’ll go, but I’ll think about it.”

 

"I've already considered this with an itemized list. These are the things that you tell your father." Akashi holds up one hand, a finger folding down with each bullet point. "One, he'll be saving quite a sum of money by not having this apartment. Two, you'll be focusing very heavily on your studies just as he wants you to, because Rakuzan is such a prestigious school. But, three, on top of that--you're still pursuing basketball seriously. Rakuzan's team has never been ranked below the top four in the nation since its creation, so logically…"

 

Kagami blinks. It’s not every day that he sees someone so prepared for...well, anything, let alone something to do with him. This is a full stop better than the _You’ll do_ eventually leading into _You’ll definitely do_ that he’s become accustomed to. “You...you really want me to come? Not just as a power forward, but...as me? I mean, it’s the power forward thing, right?” _But there are a lot of power forwards in Japan._

 

Akashi rocks backward, sighing heavily and dropping his hands onto his knees. "Obviously, the fact that you're the exact position I was looking for in the first place is very convenient. I think you'll be an excellent asset to our team, and we _will_ win everything. Beyond that…well, I don't fancy the struggles of continuing to commute to Tokyo every weekend to see you beyond this semester, and, forgive me, but is it wrong of me to assume that you aren't particularly close to anyone on your team, beyond Kuroko?" His eyes slide back to Kagami's. "My team heard that you like burgers and are already planning you a party. Sorry to ruin the surprise." 

 

Kagami blinks, then four or five more times when his throat unexpectedly closes up. It’s been...a while, since anyone has thrown him any kind of a party. So long that he can’t exactly remember it, although if he counts his team forcing him to study...Nah, probably shouldn’t count that. “My dad should be up in like, half an hour. I’ll...I’ll talk to him.”

 

"You can take your time, if you want. I mean--well, not too long, the entrance exam for transfer students is at the end of February…" Akashi tries not to wince. "It's fine," he says before Kagami can look worried. "I've prepared for this. I memorized the majority of the exam as I took it, on the off-chance I ever needed to recruit someone from another school. I don't think the material changes terribly from entrance to transfer…so it's just that, and brushing up some of your etiquette. Right, this is workable." 

 

“Eti...kit?” Kagami sounds the word out in his mouth, focusing on the part he doesn’t understand, rather than the parts he understands and is dreading.

 

"More prestigious, private institutions have a number of tests regarding traditional tasks. Please tell me you were at least raised using chopsticks properly?"

 

“I can pick up broccoli with chopsticks in my left hand,” Kagami says helpfully.

 

"…You know what, I can work with this," Akashi _cheerfully_ says. "This is fine. Oh, right, one more thing. Can you tell me what company your father works for? There's a chance it might be a branch of one of my father's, a Kyoto-based promotion might be plausible." 

 

“Uh...he’s an executive. You have his card in your pocket, right?” That’s a good way to cover the fact that Kagami doesn’t know what the fuck they’re called these days.

 

"Right, but it's not a very good card," Akashi says with a sigh, pulling it out and flipping it over to examine it with a shrug. "Whatever, I'll just research this." 

 

“It’s American, they’re not the same about cards,” Kagami mutters. “You really think it might be one of your dad’s companies? That would be weird but useful.”

 

"He has an interest in a number of overseas operations, so I wouldn't be surprised…I always try to check." Akashi fishes out one of his own cards and hands it over. "But look at the _difference_. Honestly, your father is going to miss out on a lot of business this way. Professionalism goes a long way." 

 

“I dunno, people in America think you’re trying too hard if you give out a shiny business card that’s all embossed and stuff. You just caught him off guard, he has Japanese versions too.”

 

"Not all of it is shiny! Look, most of it's matte, it's just the family mon, which is very important." Right, he's not here to lecture his boyfriend about the importance of business cards. "At any rate," Akashi says, smoothing himself back down into something resembling calm and collected, "I'm glad you're willing to consider coming to Rakuzan." 

 

“No guarantees I could even get in,” Kagami warns. “I don’t know any fancy manners, and my grades aren’t even good for Seirin, so even thinking about it is getting your hopes up pretty high.” Even if it does sound nice.

 

"You're doubting my tutoring skills again, I see." 

 

“Just doubting my learning skills,” Kagami says hastily. “And, you know, my commitment. I will probably get bored and want to go play basketball.”

 

"Then we'll keep studying while we play basketball." Akashi stares back at him, entirely unfazed. "I was assuming to hold your attention that would be necessary in the first place. To tell the truth, I've done the same with classes that I found particularly obnoxious." 

 

“What, really?” Imagining Akashi having trouble paying attention feels like imagining himself working up appetite. “Well, then. I guess...this just might work.” Stupid little flares of hope in his chest are distracting.

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sunday rolls around, clear and brisk, and Akashi dares to turn his phone on after forgetting to even think of Midorima on Saturday. Whoops. 

 

Mistakes like that can't happen terribly often, but it's fine, this time. He knows his father is away and not thinking of him. He also also knows that it's a clear and bright late Sunday morning where he has _nothing_ else to do, and that means one thing and one thing only: basketball. 

 

A few text messages sent out later, and he and Kagami head out to the court. They aren't the first arrivals; Midorima is already there with Takao in tow, and Akashi can hear his complaining before they even step on the court.

 

"Shin-chan, it's _so_ early, what the heck. Is this gonna be a thing?" Takao asks, yawning loudly. Last time, it had been a bright red headband on his head. This time, it's a couple of barrettes pinning his bangs out of his face, and he doesn't even look embarrassed about it. "Meeting up with your old friends before noon on a Sunday and expecting me to be happy about it…oh, hey, Kagami!" 

 

“Yo.” Kagami can’t pretend he isn’t happy to see Takao and Midorima. At least they’re a constant, a secure (if aloof) presence in his life that means the same thing now it did a week ago. Besides, they’re always _fun_ to play, predictably intimidating with a strong bias towards healthy competition. “Hope you’re not too worn out from dragging this guy around Tokyo.”

 

“Takao keeps his leg muscles in shape by pulling the rickshaw,” Midorima announces, though his eyes are mostly drawn to Akashi. “You didn’t drop off your phone.”

 

"I forgot," Akashi admits with a faint shrug. "I had it turned off, so I don't think it will make much of a difference. I forgot to check our game as well, my apologies." 

 

"Shin-chan's so cute! Geez, that was a nightmare last time, you know? When Shin-chan told me about how the police might show up I was pretty ready to chuck your phone into the bushes at Murasakibara's house. Seriously, what's _up_ with that?"

 

The stare that Akashi fixes upon Midorima is a whole lot of _you told him_ what _, exactly?_ , but the tension is cut when Kise appears, jangling from the array of cellphone charms poking out of his back pocket. "Morning, everyone! Oh, hey, Akashicchi, seriously? Does that mean Murasakibaracchi is around, too?"

 

Akashi shakes his head. "Unfortunately, no. He's still up in Akita." 

 

"Ahh…then what's the occasion? You don't come up to Tokyo for just a game of street ball!"

 

The silence lasts about two seconds before Takao starts predictably giggling.

 

“You guys are being dumb,” Kagami mutters. “Akashi has a class at Todai on the weekends, and since it’s close to my apartment he spent the night, it’s not anything weird.”

 

Midorima pushes up his glasses. “Kagami,” he starts, in a way that whatever comes afterwards is going to end in _you fucking idiot,_ “if you’d known Akashi for longer than a sneeze, you’d know how utterly out of character that was, and how therefore weird by nature.”

 

"It's pretty weird," Kise agrees, shoving his hands into his coat's pockets. "Like, why your apartment? His, uh, house, is in Tokyo." 

 

"My father hates having the staff around on the weekends." 

 

Kise has to take a moment to process that. "…Oookay, then why not Midorimacchi's. I dunno, it's just weird. Like, heh, I was pretty sure you two would hate each other!" 

 

Akashi's head slowly tilts. "…Why would you think that?"

 

"Oh my god," Takao wheezes, ducking behind Midorima when he can't _look_ at the conversation happening anymore. 

 

“Aren’t you listening, dumbass?” Kagami demands, giving Kise a little shove to his shoulder, hoping that’ll distract him at least a little. “My apartment is literally two blocks away, duh. Plus, who wants to deal with Midorima’s parents, who I’m assuming are just like him?”

 

“You haven’t even met them,” Midorima says, vaguely affronted and not sure he’s right to be that way.

 

"Kagamicchi, that's so mean!" Said while trying not to laugh, of course. "I mean…well. Yeah, I'm sure Midorimacchi's parents are just like him. You're probably not wrong." He slings an arm around Kagami's shoulders, whispering: "Seriously, how did you get roped into this? Are you okay?" 

 

"How is your family, Shintarou?" Akashi lightly asks, ignoring Kise's nonsense and walking forward to grab Midorima by the sleeve, pulling him along and to the side. "What _else_ have you told your _friend_ , exactly?" 

 

"Hey, this is getting really clique-y!" Takao sighs, sparing a wary glance at Midorima before shrugging and joining the _sane_ side of the court. "Kagami, what's it like? Is he a loony bin behind closed doors, too?" 

 

Kagami gives Kise a Look, then tosses him a basketball to help start warming up. “You gonna keep acting like you don’t follow gossip?” he asks mildly. “The ditzy act isn’t cute."

 

Kise's mouth curves into a slow, easy smile as he catches the ball. "I don't think it's nice to assume things, Kagamicchi, especially when my sources aren't even here yet to back me up. But hey, I'm _always_ cute." 

 

“Cool. Then keeping your mouth shut is gonna be fucking _adorable_ , Pretty Boy.” Kagami settles between Kise and the net, stretching a little in preparation. “Your knee okay today?”

 

"'s'all right." Kise pauses to make another comment, then shrugs, shutting his mouth and making an easy test shot. "Hey, Takaocchi… _you've_ got insider knowledge."

 

"Uh huh. And I'm sworn to secrecy or I don't get to hear any dirt, ever again." 

 

"What good is it, then?" Kise grouses, and glances up as he hears the chain link on the court's gates creak. "Ah, there they are!" 

 

"Good morning," Kuroko politely greets. He kind of wobbles when he walks, and the bedhead seems somewhat permanent. Kise's eyebrows just keep on climbing. 

 

Aomine shows up less than a second later, rather bowlegged and marked from collar to jawline in a series of hickeys and bites. Neither of them look like they’ve slept in a few days, and Aomine’s shit-eating grin doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere any time soon. “Yo, Kisee. Gimme a hundred yen, I want coffee from the vending machine.”

 

“You two look like shit,” Midorima says bluntly. “God, this is just like second year of Teiko all over again, how obnoxious.”

 

Kagami takes this opportunity to do a few layups, warming up for whatever battle will inevitably occur, not meeting anyone’s eyes, dreading the sympathy he’ll see.

 

"Shintarou, you're being very rude." 

 

"Why do you always ask _me_ for it, Aominecchi?" Kise complains, and forks over the money anyway as Takao sputters with laughter behind his own hand. "I work hard for it, you know!"

 

"Kise-kun sits in front of a camera and smiles," Kuroko calmly points out, wobbling his way over to a bench, where he promptly collapses. 

 

"That's not true! It's a lot harder to be a model than you'd think!" Kise suddenly perks up, as if he's suddenly remembered something. "Oh, yeah! Guys, guys, _listen_. My career's really taking off, so I need to move back to Tokyo. That means I'll be transferring--"

 

"Kise-kun, please give Aomine-kun more money so he can get me a Pocari."

 

"Let me finish talking!" Kise whines, complying anyway. 

 

“Get me one too, Kise,” Kagami calls, tossing over a 500 yen coin out of habit.

 

“Takao, get me a water.”

 

"No red beans this morning, Shin-chan? Adventurous!" 

 

"Wh--oh, okay." Kise has a very good, flirty comeback along the lines of _youuu don't have to pay me, Kagamicchi_ , but then a glance to Akashi makes him come back to his senses. Hah, yeah, no way. "Um, want anything, Akashicchi?" 

 

"The same as Shintarou, thank you."

 

Kise shakes his head to himself, and sets about retrieving drinks. "Anyway! I'm transferring to a Tokyo school instead this year. I got to thinking, wouldn't it be _great_ if more of us were on the same team, so guess what, guys? Seirin, here I come!"

 

There's a pause before Kuroko lightly says, "It was a very nice school. Good luck, Kise-kun."

 

"Eh? Why are you saying it like that? What's with the past tense?"

 

Akashi glances up at Midorima. "Aren't you glad we didn't wager on this now?" 

 

Midorima mutters something about today being an absolutely golden one for Sagittarius, which is of course highly unfair. 

 

“Tetsu got his letter,” Aomine clarifies, for the slow of them (Kise). “He’s coming to Touou starting in April.”

 

Kagami drops his shoulder properly, and shoots a perfect three-pointer. “It’s a good school for awesome basketball talent,” he manages, and sighs, nodding to himself. Finally, he turns to Kuroko. “I bet you’ll do great.” His voice doesn’t even lock up, which he’s very proud of.

 

Kuroko's eyes lid, and he nods, offering Kagami a faint smile. "Thank you, Kagami-kun. I look forward to playing against you. It will be...an experience." 

 

"This isn't fair! Aominecchi, if you knew, you should have told me," Kise complains, stalking his way back over to Kagami. "Whatever, at least you'll be there. We'll just have to be awesome together, yeah?" 

 

“Uh.” Kagami bounces the ball a few times, and looks deliberately away from Kuroko. The next shot is even more graceful, swishing through the net without even touching the rim. “Seirin’s a great school. Have fun.”

 

Midorima sucks in a breath through his teeth, eyes narrowing. “You can’t mean...”

 

“I mean, nothing’s set in stone yet, and I still have to get in, but...”

 

Aomine snorts. “Good fucking luck. Damn, you just had to compete, huh?”

 

"Did you all really think that I would let Rakuzan's team go a second year in a row without a proper power forward?" Akashi mildly asks, eyes trained on each shot that Kagami makes. 

 

Horror is written on Kise's face, clear as day. "This isn't fair. I don't want to go to Seirin if neither of you are there, the team's gonna suck!"

 

Kuroko, now a little tense, and a little agitated, bluntly cuts in: "There are other schools in Tokyo, Kise-kun."

 

"Yeah, but I wanna be on a good one," Kise whines, tapping his foot in irritation. 

 

"It's not like it matters. Rakuzan will win."

 

"Scary, really scary," Takao mildly comments, tossing Midorima his water. "Why don't we just play, yeah? Teams of two, three, what? It's uneven no matter how we slice it."

 

“There are seven of us,” Midorima says with a sigh. He does a little quick mental math, then nods. “Kise, if you sit out, we’ll have three teams of two, and the odd one can play the winner.”

 

Kise gawks at him. "Why do I have to be the one that sits out? Why doesn't Takao sit out?"

 

Takao blinks. "Why do I have to sit out?"

 

"Because you're not a Miracle!"

 

"Well," Kuroko calmly notes, "by that logic, neither is Kagami-kun."

 

The quip brings a brief silence before Akashi just as impassively notes, "If we are bringing in logic, I never considered you to be a Miracle either, Kuroko." 

 

There’s a soft, “OOooooooOOooh” from a few mouths, though no one wants to look like the one committing that kind of a sin. 

 

Midorima’s lips are tight, and he stands nearer to Takao, though he’s planning to deny until his dying day any accusation of being “protective.” “Obviously this can only be solved one way.”

 

“Rock paper scissors?”

 

“No. A free throw competition.”

 

Kagami groans. “Yeah, sure, you pick the one thing you’re best at.”

 

“It’s the most important thing.”

 

“This is dumb,” Aomine mutters. “Tetsu and me and Kise against the four of you, and we’ll _still_ kick your asses.”

 

“Unlikely,” Midorima points out. “As Kagami and Akashi and I defeated the three of you last time, and now we have Takao.”

 

“Shit, an _extra_ short point guard, what the fuck am I gonna do?” Aomine tosses the ball at Midorima. “I’m fucking scared, hit me.”

 

"I'm not that short!" Takao protests. "I'm taller than both Kuroko and Akashi, what the hell!" 

 

"Don't push your luck, Takao-kun," Kuroko wisely advises as he wobbles to his feet. "Akashi-kun might have brought scissors." 

 

"What. Okay, I have heard references to that at least twenty times now, what am I missing, Shin-chan, _tell me!"_

 

"They weren't even my scissors," Akashi defensively shoots back to Kuroko. 

 

"I'm just saying that there were definitely scissors."

 

"Ah!" Kise suddenly says, snapping his fingers. "I've got it! Hehhh, yeah, this is a great plan!" 

 

He dives off to the side of the court with his phone. Kuroko stares after him for a moment, then slowly looks to Midorima. "Good luck, Midorima-kun." 

 

“Good luck yourself,” Midorima says impassively. “You’re the one going against myself and Akashi and Kagami with only Aomine while Kise texts his girlfriend.” He snaps a pass to Akashi, feeling very pleased with himself.

 

"I believe he's referring to the fact that Ryouta has absolutely decided that Shutoku is the best course of action," Akashi mildly notes, and avoids Kuroko's vague attempt at stealing from him in favor of passing to Kagami. "Your shots this morning were beautiful, Taiga."

 

Midorima’s eyes widen in horror. “But--he wouldn’t! The uniforms are atrocious--I went there because it would keep out anyone so superficially-minded as Kise! Ugh, only that guy would do something so, so....Yolo.”

 

It's so jarring that even Akashi has to stop dead and just _look_ at him. "Are you using that correctly? I'm not sure if you are." 

 

“Of course I am. You Only Live Occasionally. It’s an acronym.” Midorima swats the ball out of Kagami’s grip, and shoots a perfect three-pointer.

 

Akashi's eyes narrow. "That's not what it stands for, Shintarou. It stands for You Only Live Once."

 

“But we’re Buddhists.”

 

"That's not the point. It has nothing to do with that." 

 

“Why would we only live once? No, it’s to connote that the person is doing something irresponsible, using one of their few occasional moments of actual _life_.”

 

"I don't care how you're justifying it. It absolutely stands for You Only Live Once. Time to settle this." Akashi's attention swings sharply away. "Taiga!" 

 

Kagami’s head swivels around. “Yo, what’s up?”

 

"Y.O.L.O. What does it stand for?" 

 

“Uh...it stands for yolo. Like, hashtag, yolo?”

 

"No, I mean--each individual letter, what do they stand for?" 

 

Kagami frowns. “No--it’s a word, like what you yell when you’re gonna do something stupid? Yoloooo!”

 

"This isn't working." Akashi stares back up at Midorima. "Ask yours." 

 

“No.” Midorima pushes up his glasses, watching Takao steal the ball from Kuroko. “He’s going to tell me I’m wrong just to prove a point.”

 

"Or because you're just wrong." Akashi arches an eyebrow. "But on the off-chance you aren't, you're going to miss a chance to beat me, Shintarou?"

 

Midorima sighs. “Takao! What does Y.O.L.O. stand for?”

 

"Huh?" Takao blinks, pausing to dribble absently. "Uhh…You Only Live Once, right? Why?"

 

Akashi's look up at Midorima is decidedly smug. 

 

Midorima feels like stamping his foot. “I’m very sure it’s You Only Live Occasionally, idiot!”

 

"Shin-chan, I love you to death, but it's _definitely_ You Only Live Once. You know, YOLO. Like--yolooooo!" The layup to accompany that is inevitable. 

 

"It has nothing to do with being Buddhist," Akashi says snidely.

 

Kuroko watches all of this without even batting an eye. "Look, Aomine-kun. Mom and Dad are back." 

 

“Great,” Aomine says unenthusiastically, then brightens. “Hey, that means we can sneak out and make out a lot like in the old days because they’re too busy bickering to pay attention, right?”

 

Midorima is red-faced by this point, furiously adjusting his glasses in annoyance. He takes a drink of water, then paces the court, settling at the half-court line. “Just pass to me, Takao. That’s all you need to do.”

 

"But Aomine-kun, I want to play and show them how good we are."

 

"Are we playing two on two now or what?" Takao warily asks, glancing around. "I mean, Kise kinda…"

 

"I'm here, I'm here!"

 

Kise bounces back in, immediately launching himself at Midorima. "Midorimacchi! My agent says that she can probably get me into Shutoku instead, isn't that cool?"

 

Kagami bursts out laughing at the sight of Midorima’s face, doubling over with his hands on his thighs. “Oh my god, someone videotape that expression!”

 

Aomine sneaks a pinch to Kuroko’s ass. “Now we _really_ have to be awesome before the Inter-High, huh?”

 

Takao's phone is already out. "Kise, say it again!"

 

"Huh? Oh, okay." Kise flashes a peace sign in short order as he swings his other arm around Midorima's shoulders. "I'm going to Shutokuuu!"

 

Kuroko sways, but otherwise, lacks the energy to react. "Aomine-kun, if we don't win, it's your fault." 

 

"Three teams today it is, then," Akashi announces, giving Midorima's back a pat as he drifts past to Kagami. "Enjoy your third team member." 

 

Midorima lets out a despairing noise. “Someone fix this. Akashi. Kuroko. _Someone_.”

 

“Don’t be an asshole, Midorima. He should be getting an award for wanting to put up with you,” Kagami points out.

 

"Midorimacchi, you're so mean to me! Come on, it'll be fun!"

 

"He's right, Shin-chan," Takao cheerfully says, ending the video and the playing it back with a laugh. " _Awesome_. Okay, but listen, it'll be great. I can write plays for both of you now, that's gonna be _fun."_

 

"Midorima-kun, I think you deserve Kise-kun."

 

"Kurokocchi…when you say it like that, it doesn't sound like a compliment at all…"

 

Kagami almost makes a comment about how hot that team is going to be, but shuts his mouth on it. That’s just plain _gay_. “Good. Easier to beat you and move on when you’re all in the same place.” God, he really needs to study for his Rakuzan entrance exam, or he’ll be all alone at Seirin. Awesome. “Akashi, drill me while we play?”

 

“It’s going to take more than quick drills to get into a school like Rakuzan,” Midorima says loftily. “Even with my rolling pencil, you would encounter problems. You don’t even have your lucky item.”

 

"Don't listen to him, Taiga. He's merely upset because he has trouble with right-handed calligraphy and therefore, would never stand a chance of being accepted. Let's start at the bottom of the radical chart, with the highest stroke count." 

 

"Is Kagamicchi going to be okay?" Kise hisses into Midorima's ear, still hanging off of him. "How sure are you that Akashicchi won't eat him?" 

 

Midorima looks sourly between Kagami and Akashi, then sniffs. “If he’s willing to put up with that, it’s his own fault. This is the old Akashi we’re dealing with again, you understand.” He rather doubts Kise understands anything of the kind, but at least he’s giving the benefit of the doubt.

 

"Uhhh…nope." Kise is even tossing aside the dumb blond routine when he says that, and sighs as he rubs the back of his neck. "I dunno what that means. All I know is that Akashicchi was kinda scary before, and then he got scarier, and now he's definitely dating Kagamicchi and that's worrisome. I hope Kagamicchi is okay." 

 

"Are they dating? Or is it a booty call?" Takao whispers, hanging off of Midorima's other arm. "Shin-chan, has he confirmed or denied yet?" 

 

“I don’t know, fool. Ask _him_.” Because Midorima does _not_ want to guess wrong and look stupid twice in one day.

 

“That’s Kagami’s shirt Akashi’s wearing, dumbasses,” Aomine shoots over, dodging behind them for a pass. “Do the math.”

 

"Huh." Takao squints. "Yeah, I guess it is pretty big on him." 

 

"It's weird, so weird!" Kise whines, yanking on Midorima's arm a little. "I can't even flirt with Kagamicchi now because-- _well."_

 

"Kagami-kun isn't into threesomes," Kuroko mildly informs Kise as he trots by, and Kise's mouth is on the floor while Takao whistles. 

 

"Siiiick burn. Wow. _Wow._ Shin-chan, wow." 

 

Midorima stares, then shakes his head. “Ice cold, Kuroko. Takao, I assume I am using that correctly.”

 

"I'm recording now. Say it again, Shin-chan." 

 

~

 

**To: TETSU**

**From: AOMINE DAIKI**

**Subject: YOU FREE**

**CAN I COME OVER**

 

It's late, first of all. 

 

Kuroko's attempts at homework are average, so that's no excuse. His parents are out for the evening--dinner? love hotel more likely--and his grandmother asleep. That doesn't make his house a more private place, no matter her hearing loss, and so he frowns at his phone for a moment before replying. 

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: it depends**

**if it's just to hang out, that's fine. my grandmother's home, and my parents will be back later.**

 

Not a minute passes before there’s a knock on the door in a familiar lazy rhythm, followed by a soft thump as of someone leaning against a heavy metal door. “Tetsu,” Aomine calls quietly through the frame. “I know you’re in the front room, open up.”

 

This is vaguely weird, but not unheard of for Aomine. Kuroko slides out of his seat, setting his book aside as he pads over to the front door and opens it. "Aomine-kun, next time, please at least confirm--"

 

Oh. 

 

Never mind. 

 

Kuroko pauses, takes a step back, but not before he gently grabs Aomine's wrist and tugs him firmly into the apartment. "Go sit on the couch. I'll get you some ice." It's been awhile, since he's seen Aomine show up with a black eye, very fresh and very painful looking. 

 

Aomine squints, then gives Kuroko a lopsided (by necessity) grin, flopping down on the couch. “Just like old times, huh? Hey, I bought your grandma some earplugs. Tell her you’re gonna listen to devil Western music or something, she won’t hear a thing.”

 

"Aomine-kun, she's basically deaf," Kuroko wearily tosses over his shoulder, emerging from the kitchen a few moments later with an ice pack that has _certainly_ been used for this before. He drops down onto the couch next to Aomine, leaning up to apply it himself. "It's not like she can hear your voice, anyway. Too low of an octave." 

 

Aomine hisses out a breath at the sudden shock of cold, leaning his head back with a grimace. “I’m just thinking ahead. You get real high-pitched when there’s a dick in you. Ah, shit, shit, I forgot how bad the hard corners of that thing sting.”

 

He cracks his other eye open, and mutters, “I really hated having to go to Satsuki for this when we weren’t talking.”

 

Kuroko falls silent for a moment, scooting closer and adjusting to keep the ice pack gently pressed there, but not too hard as to cause even more discomfort. "I'm sorry," he finally settles upon. "Did it happen a lot? Aomine-kun, even if we weren't talking…you could have come over here." The thought that he wasn't actively helping makes an odd, uncomfortable something in his chest twist. 

 

Aomine flaps a hand a little, sighing as he gets an arm around Kuroko’s shoulders to pull him close. “It’s not that often. You know I can take care of myself.” Which is good, as he’s mostly had to for most of his life.

 

"You're not very good at it." 

 

Kuroko doesn't often pull out that card, but it's pretty necessary right now, he thinks. It's also pretty necessary when he feels out of the loop, and like messaging even Momoi isn't going to end up giving him much. "If Touou had dorms, would you go?" 

 

“I dunno. I don’t think they would pay for it. And then I’d have nowhere to hide when the captain started yelling about missing practice...and I’d have to ask them for money, gross.” It’s not hard to see who he means by _they_.

 

"If I went, too…" It's a false bit of hope, admittedly. There's no possible way his parents would let him live in any dorm, not when the school itself is in Tokyo, and they like having a semblance of freedom with a son capable of watching over his grandmother on a weeknight. Kuroko heaves a sigh, pulling the ice pack away after another moment to check on the swelling. "It's just a thought. Aomine-kun, you need to stay handsome, this is not helping." 

 

“Eh. Maybe it’s fate’s way of telling me I’m too handsome. Breaking too many hearts. This way only you’ll love me.”

 

Aomine’s head thunks slowly to the side to rest on Kuroko’s shoulder. “He’s just an asshole,” he says quietly. “He makes me wanna talk back to him. But I can’t hit him. Mom would freak out.”

 

"Aomine-kun, you need to learn how to control your temper." It's hard to chide Aomine when he's like this, but Kuroko figures he should, on principle. He sets the ice pack aside, and flops down onto the couch, tugging Aomine with him to let him rest his head on his chest. "You can stay tonight, if you want," he quietly says. "My parents probably won't even be back until really late, and won't notice. We'll just leave early in the morning." 

 

Aomine swallows hard, shutting his eyes for a moment until the dumb urge to cry passes. It’s been too long since he’s curled up with Kuroko like this, too long since he’s actually had someone who understands without trying to _fix_ everything like Momoi always does. “Yeah. That would be kinda nice.” 

 

He fiddles with Kuroko’s sleeve for a minute, staring at the ceiling. “I wonder if my real dad was this much of a dick.”

 

Kuroko's fingers silently slide through Aomine's hair, his thumb stroking methodically down behind his ear, along the back of his neck. "Mm. I'm not sure, but I don't think he could have been. Perhaps a hothead, like Aomine-kun, but not a bad person. After all, you're terribly gentle and sweet." 

 

“That’s some comfort, then,” Aomine says with a sigh, stretching out as much as the sofa’s length will let him. “If he’s anything like me, at least he feels like shit after walking out on the best thing in his life, huh?”

 

"The difference, Aomine-kun, is that you absolutely have to marry me. We already have a son." 

 

“We--uh.” Aomine’s mouth curves up on his non-bruised side. “You’re a fucking weirdo, Tetsu. I’m not wearing a dress.”

 

Kuroko's expression is impassive and unyielding. "Neither am I, Aomine-kun. I do like your enthusiasm, however, and the immediate assumption that I would be putting you into the dress. That's a step in the right direction." 

 

“Neither of us should wear a damn dress. Dresses are for people that don’t wear basketball shoes.” Aomine reaches an arm up, brushing his fingertips along Kuroko’s cheek. “Hey. You’re getting some stubble. Gonna have to start shaving soon?”

 

"Aomine-kun, I'm going to bite you," Kuroko says very seriously, and gives his fingers a nip just to prove that his threat is extremely real. He doesn't stop his petting, and methodically works his fingers along Aomine's scalp. "You didn't even bat an eye when I said we had a son. I _do_ like that in a man." 

 

“It’s _you_ ,” Aomine says, as if that explains everything. “It’s the dog, right? But it’s you. It could be a corn chip for all I fucking know.”

 

"It's absolutely the dog, Aomine-kun. If you suggest that he is a corn chip again, I will bite you again." 

 

“I...I definitely didn’t...the dog isn’t a corn chip, okay? Just save the biting for like, an hour, okay?” Aomine closes his eyes, snuggling into Kuroko’s chest. “Just let me lie here for now.”

 

Kuroko tugs a blanket off of the back of the couch, neatly tucking it around the two of them--or at least, as well as he can, without shifting and making Aomine move. "You know my parents like you, and don't think anything of things like this," he quietly says. "So if we fall asleep here and they come in, it's okay." 

 

Aomine burrows under the blanket, just a little. “This is so lame...but maybe just for a while, yeah? I was practicing all night and didn’t get any sleep.” He hadn’t really wanted to go home, and the court had been calling his name in any case.

 

"Then Aomine-kun really needs to fall asleep on me and let me cuddle him." Kuroko wraps his arms snugly around the other boy, briefly tilting his head down to press a kiss to the top of Aomine's head. "Next time, just text and come over," he quietly adds. "I'll make it work."

 

“I _did_ just text and come over,” Aomine says, muffled and strangely content. “I don’t wanna bother your family, though. Heh, I should just get a job. Get us an apartment.”

 

"I mean, like: text, and just come over without waiting for me to confirm. That's okay, too." Kuroko wriggles down into the couch a bit more, his eyes lidding. "Aomine-kun's job needs to be getting even better at basketball. Don't you want to play in the NBA some day?" 

 

Aomine sighs. “Yeah. Don’t listen to me, I’m being dumb.”

 

"No, you're being very cute. I just want you to focus on what you love, that's all." 

 

“Then I’ll just focus on you.” That’s how Aomine knows it’s a bad day--that everything but Kuroko seems fucking worthless, that even basketball seems pointless, that he just wants to sleep until it all makes sense again.

 

Kuroko goes quiet again, one hand slowly, gently stroking along Aomine's back. "That's okay, too," he softly says. "Aomine-kun…you know, if you never wanted to play basketball again…I'd be okay with that, too." 

 

“Just shut up for a while, Tetsu.” Kuroko knows him, thank god, which means he can count on the fact that he won’t take that wrong.

 

"Mm." Done. Kuroko pulls the blanket over both of their heads, just to make the point of sleep that much clearer. 

 

~

 

The next day at lunch, Kuroko takes a very necessary step. 

 

"Kagami-kun." 

 

Kuroko turns his desk to face Kagami's, which has been typical since day one of successfully joining a team together…give or take the last pair of weeks or so, which has been unfortunately tumultuous. "Is it fine if I sit with you?" 

 

Kagami pauses halfway through a large sandwich, then gives a jerk of his head. “Seat’s empty.” It’s not the way it used to be, and that might take a long time, but at least...at least Kuroko hasn’t decided he’s not worth knowing yet. He also looks a hell of a lot less ragged, which does a lot to sweeten Kagami’s mood.

 

"Thank you."

 

Ah, this is somewhat awkward. Kuroko had expected as much, of course. He settles down, his attention on his singular meat bun for the moment before he glances up to catch Kagami's gaze. "Kagami-kun--I feel as though I should apologize." 

 

Kagami stuffs the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, then unwraps a third. “Don’t worry about it. It’s okay to be upset when someone breaks up with you.”

 

Kuroko blinks at him, and then says, just as steadily: "Kagami-kun. _I_ broke up with _you_."

 

“What? No, you didn’t! I left the restaurant first, that means _I_ broke up with _you_!”

 

"No, Kagami-kun. Maybe that flies in America, but that's not how it is here." 

 

Kagami scowls, and swipes the end of Kuroko’s meat bun in retaliation. “Whatever. We broke up, that’s the point. And it’s fine.”

 

Kuroko doesn't protest, and in fact, offers Kagami the other half after taking a meager bite of it. "It is fine, you're right. I was more or less apologizing for being rude, though, not for breaking up with you." 

 

Kagami waves a hand. “It’s whatever. I was mostly just mad you didn’t outright ask for a threesome instead of doing that weird three-way dating thing.” The way he grins means it’s a joke, right?

 

"Oh, I'd still have a threesome with you," Kuroko says, entirely unflinching. "But you seem a bit preoccupied as of late."

 

Whoops, there’s a twitch. Kagami glares at his dick until it stops--mentally, not physically. “Yeah. Listen, do you know it’s _really_ hard to pick up little metal balls with chopsticks? What the fuck?”

 

"…Kagami-kun is serious about going to Rakuzan?" That's all _that_ statement can mean, after all, but it's hard to believe even if he's heard it, and Kuroko hesitates. "Are you sure?" 

 

Kagami barks out a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get in,” he admits. “Seijuurou showed me the test. I guess he memorized it then wrote it down.” He refrains from mentioning, _Man, I can’t even read it,_ because Kuroko’s always been a little snotty about reading.

 

Kuroko's stare is a mile long, and mostly seems to be in awe in spite of his previous clashes with the Kagami-Akashi situation. "First name basis……..Kagami-kun really is amazing…" 

 

Kagami rolls his eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He calls me by mine...so it would be weird if I didn’t, right?”

 

"Kagami-kun, it's weird either way." Being the bigger person is hard when he still feels very sore and unhappy regarding anything even peripheral of Akashi, but Kuroko does pride himself on being able to say, very gingerly, "I wish you the best of luck in getting in. Touou was easy. I don't think they have standards." 

 

“If Aomine can get in, I figured the exams pretty much didn’t exist,” Kagami says, ignoring the fact that his father had chosen Seirin because their entrance exams were pretty much limited to making sure a student could show up.

 

"They do exist, but if they're scouting you, you can be exempt. That's kind of a nice feeling, isn't it? Being scouted." Kuroko sighs, turning a juice box around in his hands. "Kagami-kun…if it's okay, can I ask you for some advice?" 

 

That startles Kagami for a second, and he slowly chews his way through the rest of Kuroko’s meat bun before nodding. “Sure. If it’s about grades, you know I’m not much help.” _Please let it be about basketball._

 

"It's not about grades. It's about Aomine-kun, is that still okay?" 

 

Kagami sighs. “I figured it was something like that. It’s...is it a sex thing? I guarantee you have a lot more experience than I do...”

 

"It's not a sex thing. Or a relationship thing. I wouldn't ask about that, I think it would be rude." Kuroko hesitates visibly, his gaze diverting down at his own hands. "It's a family thing. Aomine-kun's is…not good." 

 

“Not good?” Kagami slows his eating, grabbing a napkin to wipe his chin. This sounds like something too serious for crumbs on his face. “I thought that kind of thing didn’t happen as much over here. Are we talking like yelling, or divorce, or...?”

 

"They get into fights. Him and his dad, specifically. Something about his dad just sets him off, and they argue, and his dad will throw a punch…Aomine-kun came over last night after that happened." Kuroko trails off, frowning. "It's not something that happens much over here, you're right. That's why I thought maybe…you might know of something I can do to help? If it's too awkward, I'm sorry." 

 

Kagami grimaces, nodding slowly. “Yeah. No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong, that kind of stuff happens a lot more in America. If I were over there...I mean, if it was middle school or something, I’d tell a teacher and they’d call CPS. Uh...I don’t know if they have something like that over here, it’s like, people who protect kids in bad situations. I guess you still could? But they like, take the kid and put them in a foster home...god, I’ve never even heard anyone in Japan talk about those, I don’t even know the word in Japanese for it.”

 

"I think Aomine-kun would be really upset with me if I called someone about it," Kuroko quietly says. "It's not like I think he's going to get really hurt, or anything like that. I just…don't think it helps. At all." He chews on his lower lip, glancing up from his lap. "Aomine-kun is a very gentle person, so it's always strange, to think about him getting into a fight with anyone. This situation--it's nothing new, but it still worries me." 

 

“Gentle? That guy?” It’s not exactly the word Kagami would use for Aomine--but he can’t deny that he’s not exactly the first person to ask, not with how he’d _apparently_ reacted “weird” to Akashi attempting to stab him with scissors. Whatever, he’d dodged, it’s fine. “You can just...I guess you can’t really ask him to live with you, right? Your family isn’t like that?”

 

"It's not that they aren't like that. I think if I really pushed the issue, they'd let him. But…" Kuroko shrugs helplessly. "I think he'd be sort of against the idea. Aomine-kun thinks he is very capable of taking care of himself. He's not." 

 

Whether Kagami privately thinks Kuroko is babying Aomine or not, he can’t deny that Aomine isn’t the kind of guy to ask for help. He reaches across the table on impulse, giving Kuroko’s hand a squeeze. “Just be there for him, then. And if it gets bad, call the cops no matter what he says.” It still feels weird that he can’t just lean over and kiss Kuroko--well, not in _public_ , but in a bathroom or something--but at least maybe they can have this kind of a relationship.

 

"…Okay. Thank you, Kagami-kun." Kuroko's lips curve into a smile, and he gives Kagami's hand a light squeeze back. "You're being very sweet. I'm sorry to have to ask you advice for strange things like that." 

 

“It’s fine.” Damn, but Kuroko holding his hand...Akashi is right. It’s _not_ like it is with him, with anyone else. 

 

To distract himself from that, he turns, rummaging in his bag. “Maybe I can ask you for help with something weird, too. If you don’t mind. You like to read, right?”

 

"Mm, I do. Do you need help studying?" Kuroko looks vaguely skeptical. "Kagami-kun…I'd love to help you with something like that, but the last time I tried…"

 

“Nah, nothing like that.” Kagami takes out an opened envelope, pulling out an elegantly calligraphed letter and sliding it over. “What the hell does this say?”

 

Kuroko stares at the letter, then back up at Kagami, then back down to the letter again. "Kagami-kun. Is Akashi-kun writing you love letters." 

 

Kagami flushes slightly, and ducks his head. “Is that what that is? I mean, that’s what I _thought_ it might be, but I wasn’t sure. Can you read it?”

 

"Akashi-kun is absolutely sending you love poetry in the mail. That's so…hold on." Kuroko pulls out his phone, leaning back to get the full sight of the letter within the frame. "I need to take a picture of this." 

 

Kagami slaps Kuroko’s phone out of his hand. “The hell, Kuroko! I’m not letting you take a picture, you’re going to spread it around and then he won’t send me any more!”

 

"Kagami-kun, you're being very aggressive," Kuroko says, bending down to pick up his phone. "Please let me take a picture for posterity. This is legendary." 

 

“Yeah, no.” Kagami snatches the letter back, putting it carefully back in its envelope. “Forget it, I’ll ask Midorima.”

 

"Kagami-kun, Midorima-kun won't instill any artistry into such things." Kuroko twitches with the urge to snatch that letter over and take a picture once and for all, but he takes a deep breath, calms himself, and tucks his phone away. "I'll be good, I promise. I don't mind helping you."

 

Kagami still looks at him suspiciously, but he hunches less protectively around the letter. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to even show anyone, but...ugh, I can only read like two words, and I don’t even know if those are right, because I thought one of them was ‘egg.’”

 

"Can you even read his calligraphy?" Kuroko asks, holding out his hand expectantly for the letter. "I don't mean that as an insult to you, by the way. It's very beautiful, but you weren't in Japan to learn about that kind of thing. I wouldn't be surprised if that's why he's doing this…Akashi-kun is an unusual tutor, when necessary."

 

Kagami hands it over, and sighs. “Then this is probably something I should do myself, right? I don’t want him to be disappointed if he meant it like a job and I fucked it up.”

 

"If it's Akashi-kun, then this is probably easy mode," Kuroko says matter-of-factly, gingerly unfolding the letter again. "He probably expects you to ask someone. If he sends more, he'll probably expect you to ask for less help, though. They'll probably get raunchier. That's how love poetry works." 

 

“Like sex?” Kagami asks bluntly. “You can talk about that with pen strokes that pretty?”

 

"Kagami-kun, this is a traditional Japanese art. For a country full of shame, we are usually very forward about sex. It's _artistic_." 

 

The bell rings, and Kagami grabs the letter back, carefully tucking it away. “You busy after practice? You could come over and work on it. Only...you’re probably busy, right?” _With him._

 

"I'm not busy if you cook for me." Kuroko climbs to his feet to move his desk back into its proper place. "I miss your cooking." 

 

“Curry, I’m guessing?” Kagami asks wryly. “I’ve got the stuff at home.” There’s leftover tofu as well, but Kuroko will definitely know, and probably throw a fit about it.

 

"Kagami-kun's curry reigns supreme," Kuroko says, plopping back down into his seat. "I'm happy to help translate gross love poetry in exchange. Kagami-kun has it bad." Fortunately, pointing that out doesn't sit so bitterly with him now.

 

Kagami throws his bag over his shoulder, then ruffles Kuroko’s hair. “I’ll meet up with you after practice. Actually _pass_ to me today, everyone was asking me if I stepped on your feet or something.”

 

"You usually _do_ do that, though…" Kuroko huffs softly, smoothing his hair back down with one hand. "All right. It's a plan. See you later, Kagami-kun." 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**When was the first time you asked your boyfriend to come over?**

 

 

Akashi sits back from his laptop and back into his stacks of vaguely organized and sorted books and papers. It's not unusual to ask these kinds of questions out of the blue, not with Midorima. Their relationship is odd and ricochets between combative and affectionate, but any relationship is an odd one if you've known each other for so long, Akashi thinks. 

 

More importantly, this is information for _science_. Knowing when Midorima did such a thing is a fairly good marker…even if he and Kagami's relationship seemed to start in a strange place. 

 

At any rate, if _Midorima_ can successfully continue to have a boyfriend for what is probably the latter part of six months, then Akashi can _absolutely do this correctly_. Just…a little insight from someone entirely socially inept would be nice. 

 

**LUCKYCANCER is typing**

 

**Our first date. Not that we are dating.**

 

**LUCKYCANCER is typing**

 

**I haven’t even been to your house.**

 

**LAKERS4EVR**

 

**Nephew please I see you are online**

 

 

Clockwork, or something like it. How cute. Akashi knows there's a faint smile on his face when he hits _call_ , and busies himself with typing back to Midorima in the time it takes Kagami to answer.

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**You're awfully forward, aren't you? It's the Kyoto house.**

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**My father is never there.**

 

 _He hates Kyoto._ Of course, his father would hate Kyoto, which Akashi finds favorable and pleasant. Whatever.

 

“Hey.” Kagami is wearing a loose-necked t-shirt that shows off a few impressive love bites to his shoulders, and an easy smile. “You’re not too busy, right?”

 

**LUCKYCANCER is typing**

 

**You’ve never invited me to Kyoto either.**

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**I didn't know you could be separated from that growth of yours.**

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is typing**

 

**And we weren't on good terms, when I moved here. Anyway, ttyl.**

 

"No, not too busy," Akashi easily replies, glancing up to actually look at the camera, and--ah. The thud of his heart is palpable, suddenly. Time to shake that off, and not be so distracted getting a glimpse of a little skin that he's recently chewed on. "You seem to be in good spirits." 

 

“I did the whole first line.” Kagami might have a smudge of ink on his chin, and his fingers are definitely stained black by this point, but he’s incredibly pleased with himself. He holds up the letter, which has been carefully folded and unfolded a dozen times, next to the wide-ruled paper (commonly used by kindergarteners) with his rough translation into English, with simple hiragana scrawled next to it. “I think I got most of it right. That’s _not_ egg.”

 

"No, that's not egg." _Oh, no, he's charming_ , Akashi frantically thinks, really furious to be on camera at a time like this when he'd otherwise settle on flipping off of the bed and into outer space--one, because Kagami is being _very_ cute, and two, hah, Kagami has his vague attempt at a love note that can also serve a teaching purpose. Fan _tastic_. "I'm glad to see you working so diligently," he settles upon, pleased that he sounds calm. "Should I give you any hints, or are you content at your current pace?" 

 

Kagami shakes his head, putting the letter carefully away. “No hints. I’m already getting better at seeing the radicals in the kanji, even in the calligraphy. Oh, and I’m up to about 39 of those stupid metal balls. I almost ate one, I was so mad,” he says, a little glumly. “I _really_ wanted to get to 50.”

 

"Please don't eat them." There is a merciful deity out there, and he does not want Akashi to have to explain half a dozen kanji in his ridiculous love note. That's a very good thing! "But that's excellent progress. I can tell that you're working hard…and not ignoring your current studies or practice at the same time, I hope." 

 

“Nah. It’s been rainy up here, so...” Kagami shrugs. “I wouldn’t be doing too much anyway. Just practicing at school and spending the nights watching TV or whatever.” Before, it would have been nights spent with Kuroko, but...sure, studying is cool, too. “Hey, you never sent me that video.”

 

Akashi blinks. "Video?"

 

Oh. _Oh_. Shit. "Oh. You were serious about that." 

 

Kagami immediately backtracks, looking away from the computer. “Uh, no, it was a joke--I mean, it wasn’t a _joke_ , but I don’t mind if you don’t want to--it was just a dumb thing, you know? Don’t do it if you don’t want to...”

 

"No, it's not that I don't want to--more of, ah, a misunderstanding? I assumed it was merely a sort of 'in the heat of the moment' thing, and I didn't think you were serious…" Akashi trails off, glancing away as he feels his face heat up. "Honestly, this is very Japanese of you. I've heard nothing but how foreign you are from everyone else, but just a video of someone undressing…" 

 

“I _am_ Japanese, you know,” Kagami mutters. “It’s not like, a fetish or anything. I just saw you do it, and...you were so hot, who wouldn’t want to see that again? I mean, you can do, uh, other stuff if you want. In the...I mean, you don’t have to make it, god.”

 

"Now I think I have to. What else is going to keep you company during the week?" Composure mostly regained--Kagami is much easier to fluster, and that is at least a saving grace--Akashi rocks back from the computer, his hands on his knees before he lifts one to unconsciously fiddle with his tie (still very much on even in the privacy of his dorm). "Are you thinking about when you'd like to actually see Rakuzan?" This is about inviting Kagami to see the _school_ , not to his house, which is much more nerve-wracking. "I can make time to show you around so long as I have a couple days' notice, at least." 

 

That’s way easier and more fun to talk about, and Kagami perks up immediately. “Come down? The Dean said I could schedule an in-person interview or whatever on some Friday, so I was thinking...does next Friday work for you? I know it’s short notice. But hey, at least we’ll have a hotel room to do it in?”

 

The wheels in Akashi's mind start rapidly turning. Next Friday--not perfect, but close enough, and he's already completed every single assignment for his class in Tokyo, minus tests…so where's the need to go to that for the weekend? Right, it's settled. "Don't worry about a hotel. You should just come over to my house for the weekend." 

 

“R-really?” There’s some excitement on his face, but a hell of a lot more trepidation. “Uh...no offense, but from everything I’ve heard...wouldn’t a hotel be safer and a lot less scary?”

 

"That would be true if it were the Tokyo branch house, but this is the Kyoto branch," Akashi explains _calmly_ , because if he isn't calm, then this isn't happening. "My father's never there, and there's limited staff. I was thinking on Friday, after your interview, I could invite you as well as the rest of the team over." Well, he hadn't considered that until right this second, but he's thinking extremely rapidly at this point. "Even if they stay Friday night, they won't stay for the whole weekend, and at that point, I can explain your presence away by saying that I'm your tutor, and that I'm scouting you for the basketball team." 

 

“I still think a hotel sounds easier,” Kagami says under his breath--but fine, if Akashi wants to play host, they can do it this way. “Your team...did you tell them? I mean, do they know? Or do I have to shut up about it?”

 

"I thought I was clear with them--but more importantly, Reo knows, so that means that Eikichi and Koutarou _absolutely_ know." Akashi hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. "Taiga…to be blunt, my arriving at a hotel to see you and spend the night with you presents at least a dozen extra privacy issues. My family owns _so_ much of Kyoto that the hotel staff would probably recognize me when I walked through the door." 

 

“Oh. Weird.” That clears up the confusion, and Kagami leans back in his chair, now relaxed. “Cool, good to know. Hey, I got those business cards I told you about. Wanna see?”

 

Akashi has to wonder if Kagami is some sort of mythical creature. Is that a normal reaction? Are other people just terrible, and Kagami is an angel? More analysis is required. "Of course. I hope you took my advice and avoided too garish a color scheme." 

 

“Red and black,” Kagami confirms. “I dunno, it felt like me. Check it out.” He grabs a few off the top of the enormous stack, holding one up to the screen. “See? All embossed and everything.”

 

"Excellent. Your father should take note, _those_ are the kinds of cards that someone is actually going to pay attention to," Akashi praises. That's one thing down, at least. "I already showed you how to present them properly, but we'll go over that again, as well as everything else for the interview…ah, right. As soon as you know, let me know when you'll be arriving on Friday. I can help you get ready beforehand." 

 

“I can come any time. Uh, the Dean said...” Kagami pauses for a moment, scrolling through his email. “Sorry, looking for his exact words. Yeah, there. He says I can come either at 10:30 or at 2pm, and, uh, I don’t want to leave here at like six in the morning, so...looks like I’ll be there around two.”

 

"Get here an hour earlier. I want to make sure that you look perfect--not that I doubt you," Akashi hastily adds. "I just know exactly what they're looking for. Schools like this are strange at times." 

 

“I doubt me,” Kagami says with a shrug. “I dunno what a school like Rakuzan would want from me. Hopefully basketball. I’m good at basketball.”

 

"That's going to be a large part of it," Akashi admits with a light sigh. "There's only so much that can be accomplished in a short period, but you've already improved exponentially. I'm sure it'll be fine, because once you're _here_ , I'll be your permanent tutor, so it won't be an issue." 

 

“Great,” Kagami says, lip curled. “Way more school. Sounds awesome.” He probably shouldn’t complain...but then again, there’s a _reason_ he hadn’t gone to a prestigious frou-frou school in the first place. School is a pretty good way to pass time until basketball, as far as he’s concerned. Making it more than that is dubious and suspicious at best.

 

"…For what it's worth, Rakuzan's curriculum is nothing like Seirin's," Akashi wearily offers up. "It's much more akin to university, where you can actually pick and choose the kinds of classes you'd like to take. I don't think you'll be as bored." 

 

“Huh. Cool.” Kagami props his feet up on the desk, reaching for a pack of rice cakes. “So. I know I’ve only got the first line yet, but...you sure have a way with words. _Cute_ words.”

 

No, they can't be back to this already. He can talk about school for hours (unfortunately), and he absolutely can talk about basketball and entrance exams (that's school again) and everything like it, but bring up his whiny love letters, and Akashi is fairly certain he'll stumble at the first syllable. "Uh…" Yep, there it goes. "I'm…ah. Glad you think it's cute…" How had it gone, exactly. Akashi doesn't want to remember it, but something about moonless nights and longing. Fan _fucking_ tastic. 

 

“No one’s ever...done anything like that for me before.” Kagami laughs at himself a little, and shifts in his seat, trying to look less embarrassed than he is. “I’m usually...I dunno. I guess I’m the kind of guy that falls in love with people that don’t usually like me back. So getting that....” Yeah, definitely can’t finish that sentence.

 

There's a definite conundrum that comes with this sort of thing. Look too embarrassed and invested, and that's a shocking amount of vulnerability that makes his heart pump faster than it already does around one Kagami Taiga. Feign disinterest and brush the topic aside, and it's simply _rude_ , and giving the entire opposite message of what Akashi wants. 

 

Which is, of course, _you absolutely deserve that letter, but discussing it and every metaphor in it is so, so horribly embarrassing._

 

Akashi settles for temporarily avoiding eye contact. That makes it easier to talk, if nothing else. "I'll admit that I wasn't going to send it, initially," he wryly says, glancing down at his lap. "It's a little out of character for me to do so. I usually keep things like that, and throw them away later…but I thought, if you had something that you might be remotely interested in to learn from, it might help…" 

 

“It’s...yeah. It’s a good idea. I feel like I’m learning a lot faster this way.” Kagami clears his throat, trying to break the mood. “I’m humiliating myself, right? Let’s talk about something else. How’s practice? Are you _sure_ it’s not gonna be a problem for me to join the regulars?”

 

"Taiga…you're not humiliating yourself."

 

Encouraging this kind of behavior is necessary, should he want it to continue. Akashi _very much_ wants this to continue, even if it's somewhat awkward at current. "Just because I have some difficulty talking about my pathetic, sappy poetry doesn't mean I'm not very happy to hear you like it. I'm just. Um. Embarrassed, mostly. So please don't mention it to anyone else, if you can help it." A deep breath, and Akashi plunges onward. "Practice is fine and it won't be any issue for you to join the regulars. You'll be expected to complete tryouts just like anyone else would, of course, but I doubt any first years can come close to your ability. Oh, but please don't expect favoritism from me." 

 

“I don’t want favoritism. I want to be the best.” Maybe that would have sounded conceited a year ago. Now, it’s just simple fact; as a leading player on the team that won the national championship, being the best is less a pipe dream and more a statement of fact. Still, it’ll make him feel better when he knows for a fact that he can win on _any_ team, not just the one he’d happened to join. “They’re not gonna haze me, are they?”

 

Akashi's brow furrows. "…Haze…? Oh, right. Well, considering I mentioned you once and they wanted to throw you a party, no. Probably not."

 

“P...party?” What the hell kind of team is he joining, anyway? “Seirin went out for steak once. Pretty good steak. We’re not allowed back there, though.”

 

"What do you mean you went out 'once'?" Even Akashi knows that teams go _out_ together, frequently and with enthusiasm. Even if he wasn't always a part of it in middle school, that changed _immediately_ with the move to Kyoto. "We go out together to dinner at least once a week, and eat lunch together every day. It was the same at Teiko, at least with lunch…hm." His eyebrows twitch upwards, vaguely annoyed. "I was under the impression Seirin was all _about_ the power of friendship." 

 

Kagami rubs his nose, trying to puzzle that out. “I mean...we went to games and stuff together when we were playing in them. Sometimes after a game some of us would grab some food. Me and Kuroko went out for burgers and shakes. You guys seriously eat lunch together every day? That’s...”

 

It sounds awesome, honestly. “Are most teams in Japan really like that?”

 

"I…don't know? _Mine_ are." And Akashi does, very solidly and firmly, consider both Teiko's and Rakuzan's basketball teams to be _his_ , no matter any flaws. "It's not a set requirement or anything like that. It just ends up that way. It sounds like Seirin was a bit more disjointed than previously anticipated."

 

“Most people that met us asked how the hell we actually won the games we did,” Kagami admits with a wince. “I mean, I can’t blame them. It’s a great team, just...Whatever, I’ll just work on getting into Rakuzan.” 

 

He glances at the clock, and sighs. “I’m probably keeping you from stuff that’s way more important, right?”

 

"I would stay here all night and talk to you if I could." 

 

Akashi's mouth twists as he glances at the clock in kind, and he sighs, shrugging. "But even if the moon is beautiful, it isn't young in the night sky--I probably should be going. You're distracting."

 

Kagami huffs, blushing up to his eyebrows. “Y-yeah. You’re...good to talk to.” _I’m not good with words like you, not smart like you, not lovely like you--but god, looking at you makes me wish I was everything you’re looking for._ “I’m like...really bad at saying stuff, sorry...”

 

"I don't think you are." What a shame that he has _so_ much work this evening (and the next, and the next), or he would gladly preoccupy himself for at least another hour. Akashi wavers, then crooks a finger, so put out at himself that there's no hope anymore. "Lean closer to the screen, just for a second?" 

 

Confused, Kagami leans forward, just a few inches from the screen. “Like this?”

 

"Just like that." Hesitating isn't cute. Not that he's trying to be cute, but he's at least _fairly_ certain that what he does next is bordering on what most people _consider_ to be cute. 

 

His laptop screen regretfully does not have any of the warmth of Kagami Taiga, or any of that easy affection or sweetness or casual grace, and Akashi does hate that…but this will do in a pinch. His lips also don't tingle when he pulls back from kissing it, but his face is red hot and burning all the same. "There." 

 

_Too cute!!!_

 

Kagami nearly dies, but manfully pulls himself together enough to kiss the laptop screen dutifully, even if he’s blushing bright enough to start a fire. “I--I have to go! Love you!”

 

He shuts the computer without quitting the program, mentally horrified at the fact that not only had he kissed his laptop screen, he’d said ‘ _love you_ ’ as if that was normal!

 

_Did he just say that?!_

 

At least Akashi is now able to do a full-on bed thrash with no one to criticize him. Blunt! So blunt! He'd hesitated to make any assumptions about foreigners and how they act, but this! _Inconceivable!_

 

Thankfully, his pillow is very good for muffling half a dozen helpless noises. 

 

~

 

**To:** **Taiga Kagami (lakers4evr@gmail.com)**

**From: 内旨 (yagura.castle@yahoo.co.jp)**

**Subject: Yo**

 

**^^^^ That would be the kanji you're always looking for when greeting me on Skype, by the way. _Not_ ** **甥** **(nephew)...**

 

**Anyway, this is Akashi Seijuurou, obviously. This is my non-professional e-mail, so please don't give it out. That being said, I'm handing you your assignment for the week here because of its content.**

 

**The task(s):**

**1\. I've enclosed a link to 15 quizzes that will help you properly study for each aspect of your upcoming entrance exam. Each one needs to be passed at 100% for you to be given a part of a puzzle. They encompass all subjects in a similar format to the exam.**

**2\. Each piece of that puzzle will be part of a riddle, which must be translated and decoded into a full answer…after you've completed every quiz. It'll be in hiragana, and you need to determine the proper kanji.**

**3\. That answer is the password to the attached file.**

 

**I've included a preview image. The video is not censored, by the way…**

 

**┐(** **￣ヮ￣** **)┌  Good luck!**

**\--Seijuurou**

 

Kuroko finds himself staring, chin in hands, at the very open e-mail on Kagami's laptop screen. It's not his fault this happened. He didn't go snooping or anything like it. Being casually handed the laptop to aid in the look-up of kanji for studying and their own normal round of homework is something fairly normal, he thinks.

 

The attached image might be pixelated, but leaves little to the imagination. Huh. So that's what Akashi looks like when…huh. And the e-mail's content...it's so _casual._ Kuroko's head tilts, and he looks up, calling into the kitchen: "Kagami-kun, I'm surprised you're so calm about this. You're amazing."

 

Well, then again, the e-mail was dated about a day ago. Perhaps Kagami has had time to cool down already? Kuroko idly glances back at the picture. _Is that Kagami-kun's shirt he's got his face in?_

 

“About--wait, Kuroko, don’t look at my emails--ow!”

 

Kagami sucks his cut thumb, running it under cold water before digging out a band-aid. “It’s bad manners to look at someone else’s email, _god_. Don’t say it was open, I know that window wasn’t at the front!” 

 

And hell, at least now Kuroko should be very aware why he’s a little tired today. Being awake all night searching for kanji will do that to a man.

 

"I misclicked…but it was still a very visible browser tab," Kuroko mildly comments, switching to another one. "I'm sorry, Kagami-kun. It was too intriguing not to read. Do you need help with those quizzes, too?" 

 

“No. It wouldn’t mean anything if I got _help_.” Kagami isn’t exactly sure when he got so protective over his ability to learn a lot of kanji. Oh, right, since there was incentive in the form of his boyfriend and what _looks_ like a vibrator and what is _definitely_ his shirt. “You want a Kuroko-sized portion of curry?”

 

"Kagami-kun probably would have had an easier time studying if I had used such tactics before," Kuroko says idly. "Yes, please. Continue to feed me even as I gently mock you." 

 

“How is that any different from the way you are usually?” Kagami grumbles. He portions out the rice, then reminds himself that Kuroko eats roughly half of what to Kagami is “starvation mode,” and scoops half back into the pot. “Dunno if it would have worked with you. It’s not...the same. Shit, I can’t explain it without sounding mean, and it’s _not_ supposed to be.”

 

Kuroko's head tilts, and he sets Kagami's laptop aside onto the table as he sorts out their homework first. "It doesn't sound mean," he finally settles upon. "It sounds…mm. Let's just agree that neither of us are trying to be mean as this conversation keeps going. I think the same about you, too, in relation to Aomine-kun."

 

“Oh. I guess that’s good, then.” It would have been different if Kuroko had felt like he was missing out. Flattering, but different, and honestly, this is something of a relief. “Does it...” Kagami turns, leaning back against the counter, ladle pretty much forgotten in his hand. “Does it feel like electricity? When you guys...you know. Even sit near each other? Like you couldn’t think about anything else if you tried?”

 

"…That's a good way to put it, actually." 

 

Kuroko slowly gnaws on his lip as he thinks, a book forgotten in his lap. "And it's like a static shock when we finally do get to touch…mm, Kagami-kun can be very poetic." He glances up, smiling faintly. "It was really hard when we didn't talk properly for about six months. He lives only about a 10 minute walk from me, so running into one another at the same convenience store--the air felt like it was crackling. I hated that so much." 

 

Kagami nods slowly to himself, then finishes pouring out the curry, a vastly larger amount for himself than for Kuroko. “You know, that makes me feel better. About us.” 

 

He sets the plates on the coffee table, then shucks the apron, leaving it in the kitchen. “Before, I kept thinking you were using me as a substitute for him. And, I mean, I get that. I got it then. But...I mean, you had to have liked me for me, because there’s no way I can compare to that kind of feeling if it’s just not there. Right?”

 

"Aomine-kun and Kagami-kun are actually quite different," Kuroko agrees, setting his book aside when there is beautiful, perfect curry placed before him. "For example, Aomine-kun is not a good cook. Thank you for the meal."

 

He wastes no time in digging in, a satisfied sigh escaping him with just the first bite. "You were a substitute in basketball…for awhile, but you knew that. I didn't expect to like you as much as I did outside of that, though. Kagami-kun is a very good, positive person, and I like that very much. Even when I was upset…there's no way I could ever wish anything bad upon you, which is why I was so upset in the first place, I think. I still don't want anything bad to happen to you." 

 

“Nothing bad’s gonna happen to me,” Kagami says gruffly, quietly pleased at the explanation. It’s what he’d hoped for, what he’d been afraid to ask, and that warms him inside as much as the curry. “Man, have you had actual Indian curry? You’d probably die, it’s so spicy. Me and Tatsuya used to compete to see who could find the spiciest one at this joint called Paru’s, it was crazy.”

 

"I would absolutely die, Kagami-kun. Please don't ever feed me Indian curry." Kuroko rocks backward happily with another mouthful, and lightly asks, "How is Himuro-san doing? You two seem to have patched things back together, so that's nice." 

 

Kagami shoots Kuroko a wary look. Kuroko and Himuro aren’t always on the best of terms, and it’s been awkward, being caught in the middle. However, there seems to be little there but wary respect, and he answers carefully, “He’s doing good. I’m trying to decide whether to, like...I dunno, tell him about all this. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking a lot of the time. Like Kise, you know? You never know if it’s a real smile.”

 

 _Except Kise-kun has a much better nature to him_ is on the tip of Kuroko's tongue, but he can't entirely disagree. He nods slowly, thinking. "It might be better to just tell him, or else he'll take matters into his own hands," he says after a moment. "Honestly, if we're talking about Yosen…I'm surprised Murasakibara-kun hasn't said something to _you_." 

 

Kagami shivers reflexively, and shoves a huge bite of curry in his mouth for camouflage. “I don’t want that guy to say anything to me about this. He’s either psycho crazy or he’s acting like a little kid, so I definitely don’t want to hear his opinions on my sex life. And he’s a _snob_ , he told me on facebook he was surprised I could read enough to log in!”

 

"It's the high-breeding," Kuroko advises sagely. "They all have a screw loose. I can say that now because you're dating Akashi-kun. He and Murasakibara-kun's families are very close. I'm surprised he's _letting_ you date Akashi-kun…maybe he doesn't know…hmm, but Midorima-kun would tell him…"

 

“Let’s get this straight,” Kagami says, gesturing with a lump of rice and potato on his spoon, “No one is _letting_ me date him. No one can stop me. I mean, unless he wanted to break up with me. I’m not afraid of your nerdy friends.”

 

"Kagami-kun, I'm just preparing you for what's inevitable," Kuroko says levelly. "You can do what you what, I'm not stopping you, even if I don't wholly approve. Just…hmm." He chews thoughtfully. "I _do_ hope you'll be okay."

 

“It would suck to get broken up with,” Kagami says with a sigh, “but I think that’s just about the worst that would happen. Sei--uh, Akashi says he’s not gonna let me get arrested, and anyone who wants to try and punch me can go for it, I’m not scared.”

 

"Kagami-kun…I don't think that's what he meant by that." 

 

“Eh?” Kagami frowns. “I don’t get what you’re saying. If I’m not getting arrested, what’s the big deal?”

 

"Kagami-kun…well, if he hasn't talked about it, then I'm not going to, especially because I'm just going off of Midorima-kun's gossip mill." 

 

“I know about the thing. With his family. Who they are.” Kagami _hopes_ that’s what they’re talking about--and if not, it’s vague enough to go over most people’s heads. “So unless you’re talking about _him_ hurting me, I think I’m okay.”

 

Kuroko gives him a very strong side-eye. "I'm first concerned about the former, but also, the latter," he says, scraping the last bit of rice off of his plate. "But if Kagami-kun says he's okay, then he's okay. At least now you have a blackmail video, if you can crack the code." 

 

“....it’s really gross that you think like that,” Kagami says quietly. “I’d never do that. Not even if it was my life on the line.”

 

Kuroko falls silent for a moment, setting his plate down onto the table. "It definitely is very gross," he agrees, glancing up to meet Kagami's eyes. "But dealing with Akashi-kun before made it clear that I have to think like that, around him. He's not… _normal,_ Kagami-kun. I don't know if I could ever do something like that, but talking about it, in theory, makes me feel better, especially because now I have to worry about you, too."

 

“I don’t want you plotting,” Kagami says, mildly touched, if alarmed, by Kuroko’s little speech. “I mean, if something happens, it happens, but that’s a big deal in any relationship. Like, Aomine’s family isn’t anyone important, but he still pretty much ruined your life for a while, right?”

 

"Akashi-kun tried to stab you when he first met you and his father would throw you in prison for the rest of your life. That's a little different than making me cry every night for a solid month." 

 

“Being a fag isn’t a crime even in Japan,” Kagami reminds Kuroko dryly. “And he didn’t, like, _try_ to _stab_ me, you make it sound so dramatic.”

 

"He would turn it into something that got you thrown into prison," Kuroko bluntly retorts. "And he absolutely did try to stab you. With scissors. I was there." 

 

“Well, _yeah_ , but he didn’t want to _hurt_ me or anything--he just wanted to make sure I was fast enough to dodge, and if I wasn’t, I’d have deserved it, you know?” It sounds a little weird when he says it aloud, even though Kagami is pretty sure his reasoning is sound. “Have you even met his dad?”

 

"…Kagami-kun, please don't let him stab you by that logic again," Kuroko wearily says, shaking his head. "I've never met his father, but I've met…um..how to put this. Extensions of him? The coaches at Teikou. Some of the teachers. Murasakibara-kun has met him, so if he comes to kill you, you can ask him about him." 

 

“Cool, I’ll keep that in mind.” Kagami scoops up the rest of his rice, sopping up the curry sauce. “You done? I’ll finish that if you are.” Maybe it’s stupid not to be intimidated by Akashi’s nebulous father. But in his defense, the sex is _really_ good.

 

**To: TETSU**

**From: AOMINE DAIKI**

**Subject: HEY**

**YOUFREEWENEEDTOTALKRIGHTAWAY**

 

"Mm, by all means." Kuroko passes the remains of his curry over--mostly gone, admittedly--and grabs for his phone. Ah. It's one of those kind of emergencies, the kind where Aomine omits all spaces. That's less good. 

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: hmm**

**i'm at kagami-kun's right now. you could just stop by?**

 

Surely, that's fine. "I'm going to start going over your homework answers, Kagami-kun. I'm amazed, you actually did all of it before I even got here…"

 

“I’ve been working a lot harder on school.” Far from proud, Kagami sounds decidedly disgusted by himself. “Amazing what some incentive will do, right?” He finishes up Kuroko’s bowl, then takes both back to the kitchen to toss them in the sink. “I mean, I guess it also helps that he explains everything in a way that makes sense. Is that really lame?”

 

**To: TETSU**

**From: AOMINE DAIKI**

**Subject: OK**

**ONMYWAY5MINS**

 

**To: Aomine Daiki**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya**

**Subject: please be nice**

**that's all, see you in 5**

 

"I don't think that's lame. That's the one thing I will never complain about regarding Akashi-kun; he _is_ an excellent teacher." Kuroko's expression is wry as he leans back to look at Kagami briefly and asks, deadpan, "Is the sex _really_ that good?" 

 

Kagami turns the water in the sink on as hot as it will go, hoping that will do something to hide the flush making its way up his ears. “Put it this way. I wouldn’t have stayed up for nine hours last night working on kanji to crack that stupid video if it wasn’t.”

 

"…Kagami-kun is really amazing. No wonder you're so low-key today…with that in mind, can you help me win a bet?" 

 

“I don’t like the sound of that, but sure.”

 

"Who gets to do whatever they want? Is it Akashi-kun? Or is he very…" Kuroko curls one hand, pawing lightly at the air as his face remains entirely impassive. "Meow-y?" 

 

Kagami’s face is entirely blank as he stares, trying to make sense of this puzzle. “Uh...is this a kanji joke?”

 

"Sometimes, I forget how American Kagami-kun is."

 

“So it’s an _American_ joke.”

 

"No…Kagami-kun…I'm asking if Akashi-kun puts it in or not."  

 

“Puts...oh.” Kagami swats Kuroko over the head. “What’s all that with the doing what I want and the kitty noises? Just ask me who tops, damn.”

 

"Ow. That's too blunt," Kuroko complains, rubbing the top of his head. "If someone is a cat, that means that they're on the bottom. If they do whatever they want, they're on top. It's cuter to talk about it like that." 

 

“That’s...a crazy way to say things! _You_ never said anything like that when we were a couple.” Kagami chews his bottom lip, then adds, “And we trade off depending on how we feel.”

 

"It's not crazy, it's cute. I just remembered it recently, that's all." Kuroko's eyes narrow. "Kagami-kun, are you trying to make me lose this bet." 

 

“That depends. Who did you bet on?”

 

"My money was on you doing whatever you wanted. Akashi-kun seems like the repressed type to me, but there were mixed feelings about this amongst our group." 

 

“You guys were seriously taking bets?” Kagami scowls. “Who the hell bet against you, anyway? You’ve actually had sex with me, you know I usually...what’s the word, anyway? You’re a cat!”

 

"Yes," Kuroko agrees, entirely unblinking. "Very much so. I'm sorry, Kagami-kun, I cannot reveal my fellow competitors. Can you tell me the ratio, though? I want to hear it from an inside source so I can hold this over Mido…ah…someone's head." 

 

“ _Midorima_ thinks I’m a bottom?” From anyone else, Kagami would laugh. From _Midorima_ , who he’d put even money on taking dick 10 times out of 10, it just seems like an insult. 

 

A strong knock on the door--not Aomine’s usual lazy rhythm, but powerful enough to make the door rattle in metal hinges--puts an end to that unfortunate train of thought, and Kagami opens the door, prepared to yell at his landlord for interrupting when Aomine bursts in, heading directly for Kuroko. “Do you know what that fucking bastard Wakamatsu did?”

 

Kuroko opens his mouth to chide Aomine on _manners, I told you to be nice_ , but the honest fury and stress on Aomine's face makes him swallow those words. "I…no. I don't, I haven't heard anything." A furtive, apologetic glance in Kagami's direction is all he can manage otherwise. _Sorry, Kagami-kun_.

 

“He’s _blocking_ your acceptance to the team! You! A national fucking champion!” Aomine grabs the first not-breakable looking thing he can find--an empty cardboard box from the mail earlier--and hurls it against the wall, which isn’t nearly satisfying enough. “I told him I’d fucking quit if he did--and he dared me to!”

 

A big hand whacks down at the base of Aomine’s neck, forcing him suddenly down into a chair. Kagami takes advantage of his surprised state, dumping Kuroko onto his lap. “Stop destroying my apartment. Waka-whatever isn’t here. Have a cat.”

 

Kuroko blinks up at Aomine from where he suddenly finds himself in the other boy's lap. "…Kagami-kun is very skilled," he says, awe in his voice as he arranges himself properly. "And not quite using that term correctly, but it's cute, so I'll take it." He sits back onto Aomine's thighs, staring up at him. "Aomine-kun, please calm down and explain the situation properly." 

 

Aomine can’t quite decide whether to be annoyed, furious, or startled, so he settles on startled as the least likely to make Kuroko break up with him. “What the fuck, why are you...never mind. _Ugh_. Fucking asshole bastard says he won’t let you on the team if you come to Touou, and the coach won’t fight him on it. He’s trying to make me quit because he doesn’t feel like fucking _dealing_ with me.”

 

“Go to Seirin,” Kagami suggests, making a bowl of curry for Aomine, and another for himself, because why the fuck not? “Riko would let you on.”

 

"Kagami-kun's not wrong…" Kuroko thoughtfully says, trailing off in thought and setting his hands upon Aomine's shoulders, methodically kneading. If he's calm, Aomine will be calm. That doesn't stop him from being very worried--can Touou's captain really block his transfer like that, or is he just messing with Aomine? Now is not the time to let that anxiety creep onto his face. "But the entrance exam might be a problem. Isn't it a little early to start worrying about that, though? I'm not sure Wakamatsu-san has that kind of authority, really."

 

“He can keep you off the regulars,” Aomine says moodily, though his hands go automatically to Kuroko’s ass. They just do. It would be better if he had tits, but Aomine has long since accepted that he can’t have everything. “Which is what he’s saying he wants to do. Make you ‘pay your dues’ and clean up the gym, or whatever--and until you can beat our regulars in a one-on-one, he can do it. That’s the coach’s policy. Fucking asshat.”

 

Kagami slings the curry down in front of Aomine, who stares at it uncomprehendingly for a minute. “What the fuck is that?”

 

“It’s food. Eat.”

 

Aomine stares at him, but picks up his spoon, stuffing in a few mouthfuls. “What the fuck, it’s good.”

 

"Kagami-kun is a very good cook." Kuroko sits back with a sigh, looking up at Kagami gratefully before his attention turns back to Aomine. "We both know I can't beat Touou's regulars on a one-on-one. It's a little ridiculous that he would go so far, just to make you quit…but…I guess there's no helping it. If he's going to be like that, then I guess the task of bringing you to Seirin must commence. Momoi-san, too, but she's easy."

 

“She’ll go where I go,” Aomine says, frowning a little as he considers how _workable_ it all sounds when said in Kuroko’s easy, gentle voice. “Not like she can’t get in wherever. Man, your coach isn’t hot at _all_ , though.”

 

“If you say that, she’ll kick you in the dick,” Kagami warns. He flops down, strangely put out by the idea of Aomine coming to Seirin _now_ , after he’s left. Things could have been...different. He pulls out his phone, and sends a couple texts.

 

**To: Seijuurou**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: Aomine**

**Looks like he’s going to Seirin lol**

 

**To: Tatsuya**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: You free l8r?**

**got stuff to tell u**

 

“I guess I shouldn’t be worried,” Aomine mutters, halfway through his curry. “If _that_ idiot got in.”

 

"Aomine-kun, please be nice. Kagami-kun's grades are as good as yours, and he can't read most of the kanji." 

 

**To: Kagami Taiga**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: ………………**

**W h y.**

 

**To: Taiga**

**From: Tatsuya**

**Subject: ??**

**skype? or phone call? whatever works, just throw me a message.**

 

“Saying someone’s grades are as good as mine isn’t really a compliment to them, Tetsu...”

 

**To: Seijuurou**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: Captain**

**wont let him play**

 

**To: Tatsuya**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: w/e**

**thanks glad your around**

 

"It's a compliment when I know that Kagami-kun's will be much better once he can actually read kanji properly." Kuroko sighs, shaking his head as he spares Kagami a glance. "This is why it could never work out, Kagami-kun. I only date true idiots." 

 

**To: Kagami Taiga**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Well**

**All the more reason for you to leave…being on a team with Aomine is an experience.**

 

“I _guess_ that’s a compliment,” Kagami says awkwardly. “I mean...it’s not, like, a nice compliment.”

 

“He’s right,” Aomine says cheerfully. “I’m a basketball genius, and nothing else matters. That’s what he meant. Right, Tetsu?”

 

"Well…I absolutely mean that you're an idiot." Kuroko shifts to nestle himself against Aomine's side rather than linger in his lap. "Aomine-kun…I hope you are prepared to study. And be really nice to our coach, because she can probably pull strings and get you into Seirin on a basketball scholarship. But you have to be _nice_."

 

“It’s _really_ not hard to get in,” Kagami says, eyebrows raised. “All they asked me was for my middle school grades--and they were pretty bad, so I’m not sure what they even wanted to see. But it’s in the third year now, so maybe it’s a little harder?”

 

“I guess it’s easier than getting you on Wakamatsu’s good side,” Aomine muses, then growls deep in his throat. “Good, if I’m quitting then I can punch that asshole right in the gut again. Tetsu, hook me up with your coach. I wanna make sure she’s gonna be cool with my style before taking any tests.”

 

"Transfers, in general, are a little trickier. It's not very common in Japan," Kuroko explains, heaving a sigh at Aomine. "I hope the style you're referring to is the way you gleefully accept my passes and fist bump me at every opportunity, _not_ the way you like to skip practice. You _will_ be coming." 

 

“I’m not doing that anymore,” Aomine mutters, ruffling Kuroko’s hair aggressively. “You should be proud. You too, idiot.”

 

Kagami punches Aomine in the shoulder, because that’s what he does when he’s embarrassed, and takes his empty bowl to the kitchen. “If you convince Riko, the captain will go along,” he says gruffly. “But if I don’t get into Rakuzan, you’re gonna have to fight me for Power Forward.”

 

Kuroko tries not to look too excited about that idea. "I…would watch that. Sorry, Kagami-kun, I wish you all the best, but I would watch that and enjoy it. I would."

 

“You’re gross,” Aomine says fondly, as Kagami growls, “You’re still not getting a sandwich!”

 

"I accept that. That doesn't mean I can't dream a little." Kuroko shifts, clapping both hands gently to the sides of Aomine's face. "We will make this work. Okay, Aomine-kun?" 

 

Aomine sighs, and some of the tension that wasn’t karate-chopped out of him by Kagami finally dissipates. “Yeah. Okay, Tetsu.” Aomine leans in, stealing a kiss.

 

“I’d tell you guys to get a room, but this is my house.”

 

“Fuck off, Wet Blanket.”

 

"I'll remember that later, Kagami-kun, if you start to give Akashi-kun a kiss where we can see it."

 

“I won’t do it in your damn house!”

 

"Correct, because we wouldn't all be over at my house, anyway." Kuroko wavers, but decides to be the bigger, better person here, no matter how much he likes clinging to Aomine for extended periods of time. "I should really get back to helping you study, though. Or if you're so intent on focusing on the _other_ assignments tonight--" 

 

Kagami waves a hand, eager to forestall anything else. “Just go, you guys go...do whatever, we all know what you’re gonna do. You already helped me through the worst parts.”

 

Aomine stands, an arm around Kuroko’s waist pulling him so close his toes don’t entirely touch the ground. “Cool. Later. Tetsu, where’s your--ah, got it.” He slings Kuroko’s bag over his other shoulder without being asked.

 

Kuroko offers Kagami a little wave as he dangles. "If you need help with anything else, you can text me. Kagami-kun's questions are actually starting to be very workable, so that's a relief. Aomine-kun, carry me properly or let me walk." 

 

 “You kick me when I carry you,” Aomine says with a sigh, and lets Kuroko drop to the floor. 

 

Kagami flops down, already pulling out his phone. “Yeah, will do.”

 

The second the door closes, he dials Himuro, leaning backward and putting up his feet.

 

"Yo, Taiga." Himuro Tatsuya, answering on the first ring and hard at work in finding a proper place to smoke a cigarette when it's sleeting outside, huffs out a hot breath into the phone while huddling into his coat. "It must be something weird if you're calling _me_." It's less accusatory, more bemused.

 

“Not...weird.” It _is_ a relief to slip back into English, the cadence making his tongue feel less clumsy, his voice a little higher-pitched for some reason. Kagami can picture Himuro bundled up against the cold now, with that little shiver in his voice. “My life is just kinda crazy lately. I’m, uh, kinda seeing someone. You told me to tell you if I ever...”

 

The raise of Himuro's eyebrows must be audible. "Huh. I'm just gonna assume it's someone that's _not_ Kuroko, then. Ahh, sweet--" He ducks underneath an alcove, sheltered from sleet and wind, and sighs happily as he finally gets to pull out the a very necessary cigarette. "Do you know how hard it is to find a place to smoke around here when it's snowing? I really hate Akita sometimes." 

 

Kagami bites his tongue on the admonishment for Himuro not to let his coach catch him--because of course he knows that, and wouldn’t be so stupid. “You better be keeping warm. I know how easy you catch cold.” He clears his throat, trying not to think about Himuro’s red-chapped cheeks in the wind, frosted eyelashes sweeping down towards his beauty mark--yeah, he really does have a poetic mind at the worst of times. “How did you know me and Kuroko went out?”

 

"Taiga, it's obvious to anyone looking for it," Himuro mildly retorts, shutting his eyes as he inhales, then exhales a cloud of smoke that is bright and white in the cold. "And I'm usually looking for it. You just confirmed you broke up, too; you okay?" 

 

“Yeah. Thanks, though. I’m...I dunno, he went back to his ex, I kinda saw it coming.” Kagami grabs another bowl of curry, eating to keep from thinking about the soft mouth noises Himuro makes when he smokes. Fucking distracting. “Don’t tell that guy about this, okay? Murasakibara. Promise me.”

 

"…What reason would I have to tell Atsushi about it?" It's a wary question now, and for good reason. It's not like Kagami has shown _any_ interest in Murasakibara outside of basketball. "What, are you doing his sister or something? That's pretty atypical, gotta admit."

 

Kagami makes a brief gagging noise at the idea, then shakes his head so violently a chunk of carrot goes flying. “No way! Ugh. It’s just, uh, it’s his old friend. Akashi. From the Generation of Miracles.”

 

Himuro nearly drops his cigarette, fumbles for a second, and hisses as he almost burns his fingers in the process. "What the fuck, Taiga."

 

“What? He’s--don’t give me shit for the gay thing, man, I don’t want to hear it from you.”

 

"I am literally the last person that's gonna give you shit for being a big gay," Himuro deadpans, taking a long drag on his cigarette to calm his nerves. "I'm giving you shit because it's _Akashi_. I've heard some shit about him, you know. Atsushi's still kinda scared of him, and--didn't he try to stab you, or something? How desperate for a pretty boy are you?" 

 

“Not so desperate I’d suck _you_ off again,” Kagami mutters, because Himuro is being an asshole. “I wish people would stop bringing that stabbing thing up, it wasn’t that big a deal.”

 

"Taiga, you're nuts," Himuro flatly says, flicking away a bit of ash. "Dump him and don't touch that with a ten foot pole. I've got some _dirt_ from Atsushi about that guy and I don't want you to waste your time. I know how you are, you get really attached and that's not gonna end well when he goes all batshit on you." 

 

“I’m not _nuts_. I’m--I mean, maybe a _little_ lonely,” Kagami admits, looking around his empty apartment, “but that’s not the same thing. He’s better now! He sent me _love poetry_ or something, just because I can’t read it doesn’t mean it isn’t cute...”

 

"Okay. I'm asking you, as your big bro, to step back and listen to yourself for five seconds." 

 

Himuro throws the butt of his cigarette down, grinding his heel into it, and promptly lights a second one. He needs it for this kind of a conversation. "You're okay with dating a lunatic that tried to stab you in the face, that visibly lost his shit on the court, and is _certifiably nuts_ by all accounts from people that knew him and are friends with you now _._ You know that level of crazy doesn't go away, right? A damned Google search'll tell you that." He huffs out a breath, shutting his eyes. "How hot _is he_ up close, Christ. I know you're lonely, Taiga, but this isn't the way to deal." 

 

Kagami pushes away his half-eaten bowl of curry, suddenly a lot less hungry. “He’s...he’s not like what you’re saying. He’s just, he gets a little weird about basketball, we _all_ get a little weird about basketball. He’s gonna help me get into _Rakuzan_.” Kagami isn’t entirely sure why he’s being so defensive. He only knows that it’s incredibly important that Himuro _understand_ that this isn’t so insane. “And up close--man, you have no idea, and he’s so small but also really strong? And his voice gets all gentle and breathy when he gets embarrassed...” He trails off, wiping a hand over his face.

 

"You're a fucking idiot." Himuro is making his way through that second cigarette at lightning speeds, and the sleet isn't letting up. This conversation just seems to be getting worse, too. "Are you seriously trying to transfer to another school for him? How long have you been dating him, a couple of weeks? Can you even talk to him about _any_ stuff like this, as easily as you can talk to me about anything? Like--ugh, _Taiga_ \--it sounds like to me like he's playing you like he always played everyone that used to be on the Teikou team. When he didn't want Atsushi to play, he fucking told him as much, and Atsushi _didn't play_. When he wanted Atsushi to show up at the Winter Cup, well, guess what happened." 

 

“I told you, he’s _different_ now--Kuroko says so too, says he’s like the old him that he used to be. I know it sounds crazy...”

 

Kagami listens to himself, and shit, he’s right. It _does_ sound crazy. He grits his teeth, wondering why he’d even called in the first place, knowing that Himuro would absolutely say something like this. “This...this is going to sound really lame,” he warns, “but Kuroko keeps talking about shit, and I just--listen, if anything _does_ happen, try to spin it for my dad, okay?” 

 

He stands on a whim, raiding the fridge and coming up with a grapefruit-flavored alcoholic soda that he pops open, wincing at the taste as he takes a sip.

 

"If I were there right now, I'd punch you so hard," Himuro mutters, glaring out into the ice with a long, weary sigh. "What am I spinning for your dad, exactly? You know he thinks I'm the biggest piece of trash that ever did walk this earth." 

 

“Kuroko seems to think Akashi’s dad is gonna find out about us and have me arrested,” Kagami mutters. “I know, it sounds stupid when I say it aloud, and it’s never gonna happen, but...I mean, I don’t wanna go to jail, but if anything _happens_ , just tell my dad I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, not that I’m a big fag who can’t keep it in my pants. I mean, if _I_ were powerful like that and wanted someone out of the way, I’d just have him killed real quiet, not go through a whole messy trial and everything. Sorry, I’m moody tonight, today was weird.”

 

"From what Atsushi has told me, I wouldn't be surprised if he frames you for something horrible to make his son look like a fucking innocent angel." 

 

There's a fine line in what really pisses Himuro off, and things like this _really_ do. Specifically, it's crazy control freaks with things that they don't even need to control. The idea of someone like Akashi Seijuurou yanking Kagami's chain around sets his blood into a slow, precarious boil. "Seriously, you can get any pretty boy you want, Taiga," Himuro finally sighs out. "Why are you doing this to yourself? If you go to Kyoto and he breaks up with you because you don't meet his expectations, then what? I know you don't want to believe it, but I'm trying to be the level-headed one here because you need it, so _listen to me._ " 

 

Kagami thunks his forehead down against the kitchen table. This is, to be honest, why he’d called Himuro--for some perspective beyond his own admittedly hot head. He doesn’t like what he’s hearing, but that’s the problem with perspective. “Yeah,” he says, muffled against Ikea furniture. “I’m listening, okay? Little brother is listening.”

 

"Okay. Good." 

 

Another, long inhale, and that cigarette is done, too. Limiting himself to just this much isn't enough to put him in a better mood (ever), but it at least keeps his lungs in respectable condition. "Why are you thinking about transferring, first of all? Is it basketball, too? Because you're already on Japan's best high school team, you've proven that." 

 

“It might not be Japan’s best next year,” Kagami says slowly. “You know we lost our center--I know you heard about Kiyoshi. And Kuroko might transfer out to another school, too, and our coach is second-best in her year and headed into third...” He rakes a hand back through his hair. “I don’t even know if Seirin’ll _have_ a team. There’s also...I mean, they have dorms. It wouldn’t _suck_ to live with other people,” he says, a little wistfully.

 

"So you're gonna try to get into a top, elite school instead. Fair enough, but you don't give a damn about your grades." Himuro switches the phone to his other ear. "Assuming you can even pass the entrance exam, how are you going to keep up on that on top of basketball? You'll hate it. And if you don't pass the exam, what then? Is he still going to be interested in you?" 

 

“He’s...he’s helping me with my kanji.” God, he sounds like such a dependent sap. Maybe this is the kind of thing he really needed to _think through_ before plunging right in--but in his defense, that’s never been his strong suit. “I dunno, he took a class in Tokyo on Saturdays this semester just so he could definitely see me once a week. We have Skype dates.” Is that plaintive? It sounds a little plaintive. “And--listen, not for nothing--but think of this. If I show the NBA that I won an all-Japan tournament, you know they’re just gonna shrug. But if I went to _two different schools and won the Nationals each tim_ e, they’re gonna look at me like I’m something special. I’m already at a damn disadvantage coming from here.”

 

"Taiga. This is the guy that literally took a look at Kuroko, and thought, 'yo, sweet, I'm gonna complete my chess set with _that_.' He's also the fucker that looked at _Aomine Daiki_ and said, 'meh, I don't really need _him_ to win, so whatever he does is fine.' I don't think him taking a class in Tokyo every weekend to sweeten you up sounds out of character."

 

The sleet just keeps on coming, and Himuro huddles down into his coat before braving it again, ducking out from underneath the alcove to hurry back to the dorms. "I'm not saying you're wrong about the NBA and all of that, but…if you're that worried about it, go back to the states and make some noise there. God knows I would if I could. Your dad actually _wants_ you there." 

 

“No...he really doesn’t.” 

 

That’s a sour note, and Kagami takes another drink to sort of punish his dad, who won’t notice the missing drink anyway. God, it’s gross. “He’s got a girlfriend. Apparently he wants to buy her a house on Rodeo Drive, can you believe? He’d be thrilled to get rid of this place, but he sure the hell doesn’t want me at home getting in the way. Ugh, how does he _drink_ this crap?”

 

"So go to a boarding school in L.A. with a fucking awesome team. It'd probably cost him less." The door to the dorm's building slams shut behind him, and Himuro shakes off the cold and snow with a long shiver. "Point is, what good is another Japanese school gonna do you? Seriously," he adds in a deadpan, "you can get just as many hot Asian twinks in California, I don't get why you're so dead-set on this one." 

 

“Yeah, look where _that_ got me.” Kagami pours the rest of the drink out into his empty bowl, annoyed at the awful taste and the way that it doesn’t seem to make anything make more sense the way commercials have always promised. “Last time I went for one of those hot Asian twinks in California, he told me he didn’t really date--after coming on my _face_.”

 

"I'm not a twink," is the very offended grouse in return. "I'm too tall to be a twink, pretty sure." 

 

“Not compared to me, Tatsuya.”

 

"Wow. Rude."

 

“Oh yeah? Know what else is rude?”

 

"Do I? I dunno, if it's what you're trying to refer to, you seemed to kinda like it, soo…" 

 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Kagami mutters defensively, because dammit, he’s _always_ liked having a dick in his mouth, “but if you weren’t gonna date me, you should have told me _after_ I told you I liked you, but _before_ you put your dick in my mouth!” He’s more amused than offended at this point, but his point still _stands_.

 

"I dunno, I don't think there's a strict order to that kind of thing," Himuro hums, trotting up the stairs to his dorm room. "Anyway, stop trying to change the subject. What are you going to do if you move down to Kyoto and he breaks up with you? Or if you don't perform to his expectations? Taiga, I'm gonna repeat what I've already said a few times over now: he's a manipulative lunatic. Just because he's cute right now doesn't mean it's going to last. That's what manipulators are all about." 

 

“You don’t even know him. He just, he went through a bad time. What if I judged you on that time in seventh grade when you only listened to My Chemical Romance?”

 

"…Taiga, I'm gonna fucking punch you. Be serious about this for five seconds and stop trying to redirect. Also, MCR has their moments of greatness."

 

“ _Helena_ was _one song_ , Tatsuya. Which you made me listen to about ninety times.”

 

"I'm gonna hang up on you." 

 

Kagami laughs, heaving himself up only to plop down facefirst on his bed. “If Rakuzan sucks, I’ll move back to the States, I guess. I dunno, I could always look up my mom. Maybe she’d let me crash on the floor. God, what am I even saying anymore...”

 

"You're acting like a lovesick idiot," Himuro tells him, unlocking his room's door and shutting it behind himself. "Listen to me again, for five more minutes, okay?"

 

He plops down onto the edge of his bed, tugging off his scarf. "You can tell me all day that someone went through a hard time, or that they've changed, and gotten better. The thing is, that bad part of them is still going to be there. You need to realize that and be wary of it, especially with something like this. Just…think of yourself first, okay? Just because you're lonely and he's hot and giving you attention doesn't mean you have to put up with anything." 

 

“....yeah.” It’s not advice that Kagami particularly wants to hear. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t _need_ to hear it, on some level. He rolls over, looking up at the ceiling and sighing out a huge breath. “I got some bad parts to me, too. You know...this would all have been easier if you’d gone for guys like me.” Just because it never happened doesn’t mean Kagami doesn’t still think about it sometimes.

 

Himuro sheds his coat, smiling wryly to himself. "I don't go for anyone, period, Taiga. It's not just you. Also, you're an angel. Why do you think I'm so protective of you?" 

 

“Because you have weird brother complexes,” Kagami says, amused. “Are you not dating that guy? I thought you were dating that guy.” _Murasakibara_ is a really long and difficult name to say.

 

"Eh?" Himuro blinks, his head tilting to the side. "Oh. Atsushi? No, I'm not dating him. I told you, I don't date." Right, Murasakibara--who he is absolutely going to tell about all of this. He never did promise, after all.

 

“Okay...but _why_ the hell don’t you...never mind.” Kagami had thought that he’d long ago accepted that Himuro just didn’t talk about things like that. Apparently, he never learns. “I don’t even need to tell you you could have anyone you want. You know. _You’re_ not limited to Asian twinks.”

 

"Taiga, if you're going to turn this into something all about me, then I'm _really_ going to hang up on you." 

 

“Maybe you should. Leave me alone to think about my dumb choices.” Kagami sighs. “In my defense...he’s _really_ gorgeous. And the sex is amazing.” There might be an element of gloating. Since he’s had to listen to Himuro’s conquest tales going back a few years, there’s an element of payback.

 

"Uh huh." Himuro flops back onto his bed, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "But can you think with anything but your dick when you're around him, is the question." 

 

“Told you, he’s helping me with my kanji. I probably know more than you now.” Kagami considers, then remembers the way Himuro had talked with his family exclusively in what had seemed like very complicated Japanese at the time. “Then again, probably not. But I’m _definitely_ learning.”

 

"Sure. An educated guess says he's totally bribing you with sex to get you to study more."

 

“He calls it, uh...” Kagami looks up the word he’d written down, then runs it through translate on his phone to get the English equivalent. “Incentives. I mean, it _works_. There’s a video I’m trying to unlock with a code...it’s _totally_ hot.” Even thinking about it makes Kagami bite his lip, grinning to himself and anticipating another sleepless night looking up kanji.

 

Himuro smacks a hand over his own face, wiping it down slowly in frustration. "I wish you could hear how this all sounds, Taiga, I _really_ do." 

 

“Shut up! I know you think he’s just using me, but--I mean, _I’m_ the champion, not him, so who’s using who? Tatsuya, the sex is _so_ good.”

 

"…I cannot figure out _how_ you think you could be using…him…in a basketball sense--you know what, whatever, cool. Tell me about the shit you do in bed, you clearly want to." At least then he can make a list for when he inevitably tracks this asshole down for hurting Kagami in some way. Each sex-related thing equals a punch to the face. 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey, you know this game?”

 

Kagami pauses, holding Akashi’s bag open as he digs for the notebook and fountain pen that Akashi had asked him to pull out. He frowns, looking at the folded board and clear mesh bag containing a set of familiar-looking wooden pieces, fountain pen in his other hand. 

 

Homework is mostly finished for the day, anyway. He’d been bothering Akashi to make another video--this one, of his elegant pale hands tracing out gorgeous calligraphy, because as Kagami had so recently discovered, that may just be his sexuality.

 

Akashi, comfortably folded up on Kagami's bed and wearing only the typical stolen t-shirt of his visits, merely raises an eyebrow. " _You_ know it?" he lightly shoots back, honestly surprised. "Not to be rude--I thought shogi wasn't terribly popular overseas." 

 

“No, I never saw it in America.” Kagami pulls out the board and pieces, rubbing one calloused thumb over a half-forgotten cipher. “My grandpa taught me when I was really little. He made his own set--I kinda thought he made the game up, you know? Hey, do you know how to play?” His voice is eager, eyes lighting up at the thought.

 

 _Do I know how to play, dear god._ It's a little ridiculous to have found someone that doesn't know of his intense love of the game, second perhaps only to basketball…not that he'd admit that, because on any given day, they might as well be tied. "I know how to play," Akashi softly answers, charmed in spite of himself. "Bring it over. I was going to play with a professor today, but he skipped out on me." 

 

Kagami flips out the board, then starts setting up the pieces in record time, scattering them before herding them into their appropriate squares. He sits up on his knees, then cross-legged, unwilling to be in seiza for even a brief period of time. “This is awesome, I didn’t even know other people knew. You wanna go first?” Already the moves swirl in his head--like basketball, players on a court, each following rules and playing a role.

 

"It's a fairly common game over here," Akashi says, still reeling somewhat and trying not to stare at Kagami like he's grown a second head. _Seriously? Someone else suggesting a game of shogi? With me?_ "Ah…are you sure about this? Games can really take a long time, you know." 

 

Kagami grins, nodding towards the clock--3pm, on a Saturday afternoon, and they’ve already finished Kagami’s homework. “You’ve got somewhere else you need to be?”

 

"…Not even a little bit," Akashi admits, his lips twitching into a smile. "All right. Prepare yourself, then. I've been told that I'm quite good." 

 

Akashi has also been told that he's prone to spacing out when shogi is involved. Those that have said that aren't wrong, but he doesn't see much fault in that, at least not until long lapses of time occur and he doesn't entirely realize it. One such case would be an hour in, wherein they've both at least made a couple of moves, and he barely even hears the knock on the door when it first occurs. 

 

He blinks, finally lifting his head when Kagami moves as well, and he warily makes a grab for pants, _paranoid_ this time. "You should probably shut the bedroom door, when you go to answer that--just in case," he wryly points out.

 

Kagami sighs and hops into a pair of pants, tugging on an old concert T-shirt he probably stole from Himuro a few years ago, judging by how tight it is. “It’s probably my landlord’s wife,” he says, annoyed already. “She has this _thing_ about my recyclables, like I can never do it right because I used to live overseas.”

 

He shuts the bedroom door as requested, and pads over to the front door, blinking in surprise at the sight of Takao Kazunari. “Uh, hey? Is everything--”

 

"Where the fuck is he?" 

 

Takao prides himself on being easy-going and calm. He makes a habit of it, actually, because if he doesn't, who's going to do it? It would probably be pretty helpful in a situation like this right now to still be calm, but that's not going to end up getting anything done. "Not that you're any better--fucking answer your phone," he snaps, darting his way into the apartment. "Shin-chan tried to call you like twenty times, the least you can do is pick up when this is _your_ boyfriend's fault!"

 

The walls might be good, but it's still easily recognizable as Takao's voice, and therefore Akashi is quick about rolling out of bed, clawing his way out of Kagami's shirt and yanking on a pair of pants at the same time. He's still in the process of buttoning up his own shirt as he nudges Kagami's bedroom door open with his shoulder, and Takao's sharp, blazing eyes are immediately on him. "Wh--"

 

" _Your dad_ had Shin-chan picked up like a criminal because _you weren't at his house."_

 

Dread is cold and sudden in his stomach. "Oh." 

 

"Don't 'oh' me. This is your fault. You did it, you fix it!" Takao throws Akashi's cellphone directly at him, and Akashi fumbles to catch it. "Shin-chan always goes out of his way for you," he forcefully continues, stalking past Kagami. "The least you can do is make sure something like this doesn't happen!" 

 

Kagami’s hand comes down hard and strong on Takao’s shoulder, squeezing just as much in compassion as in firm instruction. “It was a mistake,” he says, eyes darting to his own phone, which, yeah, is apparently buzzing quietly from his discarded pants over the back of the couch. “I’m sure Akashi will fix it, okay? It’s not like his dad could have had him _arrested_ for having a _phone_ , right?”

 

"His dad's a fucking psychopath, how the fuck do I know what he won't do?" Takao spits out, not exactly gentle when he shrugs off Kagami's hand. "I've never seen Shin-chan that freaked out before, and I've seen him act scared of your piece of shit boyfriend!" 

 

"I'm going to take care of it." 

 

"Damn _right_ you are!" Takao's voice breaks around the edges. "Stop asking him to do stuff like this while you're at it! It's not like you don't know how he is!" 

 

Saying anything to that is impossible, especially when he has his own phone in his hand again, with half a dozen missed calls, one from his driver, five from his father. Terrifying. That's terrifying. Missing just one call from his father because he was in the shower, or staying too long after practice is bad enough. 

 

With this, his heart won't stop pounding. 

 

Akashi darts back into the bedroom, snatching up his tie, his jacket, and tossing their in-progress shogi game back into his bag at lightning speed. "I can't call him here, he'll know," he mutters as he briskly walks out again, shrugging his jacket back on, his fingers shaking as he ties his tie at lightning speed. "But I'll handle it, right now." 

 

Kagami follows rather than trying to stop Akashi, keeping up with longer strides. “Is there something I can do about this? I know, you can say you came over to recruit me--and you swore Midorima to secrecy to keep other teams from finding out. He knows you’re trying to get me to transfer, right?”

 

He’d never usually ignore Takao, but if there’s one thing they can all agree on right now, it’s that the first, most important thing to do is to get Midorima out of trouble and somewhere _safe_. Kagami isn’t sure exactly what’s going on, but seeing Akashi freaked out is not something he enjoys.

 

"I'm going to mention you only if it comes up. My father knows I'm in Tokyo to recruit as well, but it's the fact that I wasn't at Shintarou's that is a problem more than anything." 

 

Akashi is practically jogging out of the apartment at this point, bag on his shoulder, phone tightly clutched in his hand. "I lied to him. So the smartest thing to do," he says, not so much talking to Kagami now as he is coaching himself out loud, "is to play dumb, and say I left my phone at his house when I went out to play basketball, or something like it--"

 

"Shin-chan already fucked that up. He said you were there when you weren't, and clammed up afterwards." 

 

Takao's voice isn't at all pleasant when it's ripping him out of his thought process, and Akashi rounds on him, teeth bared. "Shut up! I don't care what he said--"

 

Takao doesn't even flinch, and instead lunges forward again, within inches of Akashi's face. "Well, you should! He was trying to cover _your_ ass, so think of him first!" 

 

Akashi inhales slowly, breathing in some of the air that feels thick enough to cut with a knife. "I'll deal with him," he eventually says, already starting down the stairs, and Takao's high-pitched, frustrated snarl is quickly directed at Kagami instead, even if he has nothing else to add to it. 

 

“He didn’t _mean_ that he doesn’t care what happens to Midorima,” Kagami grunts, following as fast as he can, until Akashi leaves them both behind. Weird, how he can already so easily understand where the thought process had come from. “He’s just, he’s saying the same thing no matter what Midorima says, because he can always claim Midorima fucking panicked when he got called on it.”

 

It should probably worry Kagami that he’s already so defensive of Akashi’s motives. Instead, he just feels a hot sick pulse of worry in his gut, both for Akashi and Midorima, and for what could happen after.

 

“Fuck,” he groans, resting his head back against a wall, something he’d never dare to do in grimy L.A. “I thought you guys were all exaggerating about his dad. He’s really that nuts?”

 

Akashi is fucking _gone_ , the little shit, and Takao gnaws on his lower lip until it bleeds. Akashi is _fast_ , already down the entire stairwell, and jogging around the corner of the next block. There's a basketball court down that way, so at least Takao knows, begrudgingly, that he's going to call from there. 

 

It doesn't make him feel any calmer, unfortunately. He yanks his own phone out of his pocket, feeling more frantic when he hasn't gotten a single reply to any soothing text he sent Midorima's way, and shoves it away again. "What, did you think we were hiding his phone for shits and giggles?" he groans, wiping a hand down his face. "Kagami, get a clue. You're dating someone _high profile_ now."

 

“I don’t even get what that means!” Kagami follows Takao, apparently to the basketball court, though he’s not sure whether his presence will make anything better or worse. “I knew a lot of people in America with like, famous parents and shit. They acted like they were big shots, but their folks still came to parent-teacher conferences and yelled at them for bad grades and brought them school lunches, you know? They just did it in stretch limos to show that they were _fancy_.” And if he’d moved over there a few years later, with how his father’s business has taken off, he’d _probably_ have been one of them.

 

"How the…seriously, how do I know more about this than you? You're dating him!" He's so frustrated that it comes out sharper than he'd like, and Takao will probably think to apologize later, but not right now. "He's related to the _emperor_ \--Shin-chan says his mom was a princess or something! Fuck, that is definitely one of their cars," Takao mutters, grabbing Kagami's arm and yanking him back from crossing the street when a black, unmarked sedan flies by. "Just let them pick him up and let this get dealt with. I like you, but I'm _not_ letting Shin-chan get in trouble for covering up his ex's dumb gay affair, sorry." 

 

Kagami looks around suspiciously, still sort of sure that he’s being made fun of and taken for a fool. “It’s not like they can _do_ anything to Midorima...right? I mean, Japan has laws against that kind of thing--and _his_ parents are weird old money too, I know that much.”

 

He pauses, hand on the concrete, scanning the nearby street before something sinks in. “Wait. _Whose_ ex?”

 

"Do you not understand Japanese? Shin-chan's." Takao grouses, flipping open his phone again and exhaling a hard sigh when there's still nothing. "Yeah, Shin-chan's weird old money, but that's just _old money_ , really traditional and stuff. Akashi's like, royalty. Like, put a crown on it. Like, bow down when he walks by or it's awkward, apparently, what the hell." 

 

Kagami still isn’t entirely sure what there is to be _impressed_ with about being born into a royal family, but he nods to make Takao think he isn’t a fucking idiot. “He doesn’t want everyone bowing to him, so I’m not gonna do that. But go back. When the hell did Midorima and Akashi _date?_ ”

 

"That's the part you're amazed about? Are you for real?" 

 

“It’s the part I didn’t know about!”

 

"You don't seem to _get_ the other stuff even if you know about it!" Takao huffs, shaking his head. "Geez. I can't believe he didn't freaking tell you. It was in middle school, they totally dated. Best friend level shit, like finish one another's sentences and crap from what I've noticed, real creepy. But it didn't work at _all_ , and they're still really salty about it."

 

The same black car zooms by again, and Takao exhales a long breath. "If they picked him up, maybe that means they'll chill out about Shin-chan soon enough," he mutters, clutching tight to his phone and not even waiting for the light to change before he jogs across the street, just to make _sure_ Akashi's not still at that court. 

 

Kagami shrugs, then decides to take that much in stride as well. He’s already apparently found out that Akashi is unfortunately not as crazy as he’d thought, or as fat-headed, and instead a lot more dangerous. He can (probably) handle finding out Akashi has _another_ tall shooting guard for an ex in the same day. He follows Takao across the street to the empty court, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “What now? Do we wait?”

 

"…I dunno," Takao admits, staring down at his phone. "I don't know how this works. I mean, I hope Shin-chan's got enough sense to call me when this all blows over. But you're not off the hook either, Kagami," he flatly says, rounding on Kagami and glaring up at him. "Check your damned phone in the future. If you're dating that weirdo, _you've_ got to keep up on stuff, too. Don't you know how to date an airhead properly?"

 

“Apparently not,” Kagami mutters. “Sorry about the phone, we were, you know, doing it. Then playing shogi, which is apparently a real game.” He leans back against the chicken-wire fence, sighing out a huge breath. “This is all really new and _really_ weird. How did you figure it out?”

 

Takao stares at him, trying to figure out if he's serious. "S…shogi is definitely a real game…yeah. Are you an alien? I think you're an alien." 

 

Collapsing back next to him in an attempt not to pace, Takao fiddles with his phone, flipping it open, closing it again, repeat. "Shin-chan's easy. I dunno. He doesn't tell me a lot of things about how his family works, but I can infer from how hesitant and nervous he gets about stuff. Sounds like Akashi's the opposite, though--a whole lot of 'everything is fine, I have it handled', yeah? At least now you can assume that's bullshit." 

 

“Well, he _might_ have it handled,” Kagami points out. “I mean, we don’t _know_ that it’s all horrible, right? He might show up with Midorima. He’s cool like that. I try not to underestimate him.” He pauses, then admits, “I dunno how you can date that guy. I mean, he’s _hot_ , sure, but doesn’t he drive you nuts?”

 

"There's no part of this that isn't horrible," Takao bluntly tells him, opts not to elaborate on how panicked Midorima had looked, which really had said it all. "There's no way you're seeing him for the rest of the weekend, so forget it. His dad was _furious_. Shin-chan's never even met Akashi's dad before now--on purpose, as far as I can tell." 

 

He idly scuffs his toe against the court. "Are we gonna have a rag-on-each-other's-boyfriend's contest while I wait for a text? I can go all day, let's fight." 

 

Kagami groans, and grabs a basketball from the corner where he’d left it last time, slamming it against the ground to try and get out some of his weird nerves. “This is fucking weird. What the hell did I get myself into? Tatsuya’s right, I should have gone back to California.” Comments about Asian Twinks aside.

 

Takao sets his phone's alerts to the loudest setting _plus_ vibration, and stuffs it into his back pocket before shoving away from the fence. "You went for the hottie, this is your reward," he dryly says, gesturing for Kagami to pass him the ball. "I dunno, man. I've got inside info, if you want any? But I feel like you've been told everything, you just don't get it." 

 

Kagami dribbles a few times, shoulders dropping in relief to be _playing_ instead of just sitting around waiting for something bad to happen. Then he passes, running into prime position for a rebound. “I get it as much as I can without living it, I think. But I don’t see the point in worrying about it all the time. If something’s gonna happen, it’s _gonna_ happen, you know?”

 

"That's not really an option for guys like that," Takao tries to explain, dribbling hard to let some of the tension escape from his shoulders before darting forward to the basket. There's way too much pent-up energy in his shot, and it circles the basket, skimming over the edge. "Like--your family's got money, right? Mine, too. But it's different, for both of them. It's not just about money." 

 

“People in America treat money like it’s everything,” Kagami grunts, rebounding and jogging to the center court line, giving himself a challenge before thundering back towards the basket with a dunk. “They all act like snots over there. It’s why I don’t tell anyone I live alone, you know? But it’s different here, right?”

 

"Yeah--it's really different." Takao watches that dunk with awe, then shakes it off long enough to catch hold of the ball, bouncing it behind his back, then back to the front with a nervous fidget of energy. "Even if they were dirt poor--it's all about the bloodlines, and reputation, and _tradition._ That extends in who they talk to, and what they do, too. Like, for example." He points to himself while dribbling idly with the other hand. "My mom's half-Korean. If Shin-chan's parents knew, I wouldn't be allowed to _talk_ to him, probably. They're really protective of their kids. My given name freaked them out, because it's all modern and stuff."

 

“But...they can’t _stop_ him. Right?” That’s the part that makes so little sense to Kagami. “They have to know that their kids are just gonna do stuff whether they like it or not. I mean, it’s not like they can force him into an arranged marriage or something.”

 

Takao squints at him, and briefly throws his full energy into a fake, dodging past Kagami to the relief of making an easy layup. He exhales a long breath, hands on his hips as he turns to face Kagami. "Kagami, man…Shin-chan's got a fiancé. So does your boyfriend, that's a thing, with all these meika families."

 

Kagami drops the ball that he just caught, startled. He grabs it again, face screwed up in confusion and concentration. “Wait. What? What the fuck are you talking about? What’s a meika? No way they have...what?”

 

"Meika…uh…it's like--what's another term you'll know, nobility? Something like that." Takao shrugs helplessly. "Shin-chan's definitely got a fiancé, her name is Kiyoko and she's a sweetheart. Like, no, there's no law saying he has to marry her, but he's gonna, some day, or he'll be shaming his family. That's kinda how that works…apparently." 

 

“But...why would he care what they think?” Kagami asks, perplexed. “If they’re gonna be assholes about it, why doesn’t he ignore them? Why doesn’t he just move out and get a job? How hard could it be?” He shoots the ball, hearing it go through after some serious backboard contact. Whatever, he’s not feeling terribly clear-headed today.

 

"…Because that's not how it's done, in Japan." 

 

Takao grimaces, watching the ball bounce and roll over to him and knock against his foot before he picks it up. "Look, I get where you're coming from. It's frustrating as hell, watching them cater to their parents when it makes them unhappy. But like…what are you going to do, except be supportive? Disrespecting your parents and going against the grain is like, sacrilege. I dunno about your parents, but I'm lucky, because my parents just kinda let me be. Shin-chan's parents--Akashi's dad--they aren't like that." 

 

“We talked about it,” Kagami says, wiping his forehead with a sigh. “I should have gotten it then, I guess. I mean, I basically told him that my dad fucked off and doesn’t want to really be a part of my life, and he sounded jealous as hell. Kind of a tip-off.”

 

Takao frowns, absent-mindedly dribbling before letting the ball bounce in a languid pass to Kagami. "Shin-chan's parents are strict and really traditional, but they're good people," he finally settles upon. "They mean well, and they care about him. That's why I won't ever tell him to do something that's going to make them unhappy, no matter how much I wanna steal him. Akashi's…I dunno. With everything Shin-chan's told me, and after what I saw today…his dad's the kind of person I hate the most. If I had a kid, I'd _never_ treat him like that." 

 

“It makes me mad.” Kagami catches with one hand, dribbling a few times before shooting a three and missing, going after the rebound and falling just short of Takao’s grab. “Like...I want to fight his dad. I’m not saying I _will_. But I want to.”

 

"Yeah, don't fight his dad, you'll get thrown in jail." Takao cracks his neck with a long sigh as he trots across the court, his dribbling slowly becoming more relaxed. "I'll tell you something Shin-chan told me if you promise not to repeat it to your boyfriend." Risky, but they're both venting, and the chance to share a few uncomfortable secrets sounds _so_ good when they're both worried about what's going on. 

 

“Yeah, go for it.” Kagami goes for a steal, and fucks it up immediately, not really concentrating hard enough to make it work. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. He’s easy to talk to, but...not like, spilling secrets level.”

 

"Well--it's like, not something he'd probably say. It's just a pet theory of Shin-chan's." Takao tries for a three-pointer, fucks it up extravagantly, and heaves a sigh of defeat. "Shin-chan thinks that the reason Akashi's dad is so loony about him is because if he doesn't keep him on the up and up and get him to marry properly back into the royal family, that he'd lose his own status as a member of the imperial household. Like…Akashi's mom was a princess or something, but his dad? Probably someone from a side pool of candidates she could pick from. There aren't that many descendants, after all. Pretty gross, if you ask me." 

 

Kagami makes a face, gagging on the words like something sour and bitter all at once. “That’s a pretty shitty excuse for a dad. I guess I figured that, but...gross.” Kagami chases the ball, bringing it back with a dribble more forceful than it needs to be, then passing to Takao. “At least mine doesn’t really care what I do as long as I stay out of his life and away from his new girlfriend.”

 

"Really nice," Takao dryly replies, faking to the right before getting a running start for the hoop and dunking _hard_ to get the last bit of jittery energy out of his legs. It doesn't entirely work--he still feels like shit, like his stomach is tied up in knots and his fingers are all tingly, but it does make him focus on the sweat dripping into his eyes more than that, at least for a second. "My mom's really chill and never around. My dad's like, three times her age and not chill, but never around. So long as I get decent grades and win at sports, he doesn't ask questions." He sighs, stretching his arms above his head. "We're the lucky ones here, no matter what Oha Asa's got to say for the day." 

 

“Yeah.” Kagami throws the ball way harder than he needs to, smashing it to the ground so hard it soars up above his head before he catches it. He wipes his forehead on the back of his arm, then grimaces. “If it comes down to it between his dad or me...I mean, he’s got to pick his dad, right? He told me before he can’t even _leave the country,_ probably not ever. What the hell, right?”

 

"That's fucked up," Takao cheerfully agrees. "He's a national security hazard because he's dating you, I'll bet. Hey, one positive--they say the imperial line is descended from gods and stuff, does that mean you've put your dick in a god?" 

 

“Wait. What?” Kagami laughs uncertainly, stuffing his hands in his pockets and letting the ball roll slowly away. “No one really believes that, right? I feel like this whole country is playing a joke on me sometimes...”

 

"Nah, man, lots of people think that." Takao laughs, catching the ball with a toe and launching it up onto his knee before kicking it across the court and into the fence. "Nice. Ah, okay, while I'm thinking about it, I'm gonna apologize for barging in and nearly punching your boyfriend. So, yeah, I'm sorry. Just…ugh. Shin-chan being upset, that does things to me."

 

“Sorry I grabbed you, too.” Kagami strips off his outer shirt, tossing it over the back of the nearest bench. “I guess we both get kinda protective. If you punched him, I’d’ve punched you back, probably. Or he would have. I dunno, it’s weird to feel all protective over someone who acts so scary--you know? Like, your boyfriend is like, six foot five--er, a hundred and ninety five centimeters, with shoulders like a linebacker--uh, an ox.”

 

"Shin-chan doesn't have a scary bone in his body, though. He's a real princess, a delicate one, and if you don't believe me, you don't know him," Takao firmly adds before Kagami can give him the side-eye. "Like, thinking about how stressed out he is right now is gonna give _me_ hives. He's such a goody-two-shoes that the _idea_ of getting in trouble like this is enough to set him off." 

 

“That sounds _really_ stressful, to be honest,” Kagami says, flopping down onto the bench. “You think he’s really gonna get married? Doesn’t that, like, stress you out? Knowing that you’ll have to break up? You guys seem so attached.”

 

**To: Takao Kazunari**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: whre are you**

**Pplease tell me**

 

"We're not breaking up, even when he gets married." 

 

It's said very matter-of-factly, even as Takao nearly flips backwards in an attempt to free his phone from his back pocket. 

 

**To: Shin-chan**

**From: Takao Kazunari *:** **・ﾟ** ✧ **.**

**Subject: where are YOU?**

**I'll come get you, I'm on the court near Kagami's apartment if you're nearby**

 

Takao exhales a long, steadying breath, and glances up to Kagami. "Can you…say something to your boyfriend, for me? You don't have to, I guess. But--it would just be nice, if you told him to kinda lay off of Shin-chan for awhile, task-wise. You can tell him it came from me, I don't care. I just know if I say it to his face, I'll get too aggressive. Even when he's being all polite, something about Akashi riles me up, I dunno." 

 

“Yeah. I’ll say something.” Kagami shakes out his head, sending sweat drops flying, and gives Takao a brief smile. “Something about him really gets to a lot of people. I don’t really get it...but from what I’ve heard, I’m mostly seeing him at his best, so...”

 

**To: Takao Kazunari**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: home**

**got consfused, todld them youar house. sorry shhaking.**

 

**To: Shin-chan**

**From: Takao Kazunari *:** **・ﾟ** ✧ **.**

**Subject: GOOD**

**Key under the flower pot, no one's home, go in and curl up. Be there in 10. You're okay! Scorpio is #1 today, so let me handle things.**

 

"Cool, got this," Takao mutters underneath his breath to himself, stuffing his phone away. "Yeah. I appreciate it. I get the impression you're seeing him on his best behavior, and I'm happy for you, but lord…he's something else." He rakes both hands through his hair, and straightens up entirely with a smile. "Right, I just heard from Shin-chan, so I'm gonna run. If I hear something about yours, I'll let you know, okay? I've got your number." 

 

If Kagami were a smart man, he’d run. Instead, he just gives Takao a weary smile. “You need anything? I feel bad that Midorima got sucked into this, he’s always helped me out.”

 

"A jet plane?" Takao wryly asks, already backtracking towards the court's gate. "To get the hell out of the country?"

 

“I can do plane tickets,” Kagami calls, only half-joking. “Any time, my dad knows a guy at Delta.”

 

**To: Takao Kazunari**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: curled**

**eta please**

 

"Yo, sweet! Take me to L.A. sometime, I'm fun!"

 

A last wave, and Takao takes off at a dead run. Literally, the only good thing about his current location is that he's _close_. In this part of Tokyo, everything is close--one train stop, and he's already in the right neighborhood. 

 

**To: Shin-chan**

**From: Takao Kazunari *:** **・ﾟ** ✧ **.**

**Subject: 5**

**now 4, running**

 

7-7-14 Hiroo, Shibuya-ku, Tokyo does not happen fast enough for his tastes, even at an outright run from the station. The door is still unlocked when he gets there, fucking bless, and Takao absolutely forgets about shoes and etiquette when he slams it behind him. "Hey, Shin-chan! You in my bedroom?" he calls out, hurriedly locking the front door--because _fuuuck, Akashi's family knows where he lives now, super great!_ \--and bounding down the hall. 

 

“Y-yes.” 

 

Midorima is not only in Takao’s bedroom, he’s in Takao’s bed, half-undressed and curled up under every blanket he could find, glasses folded neatly on the side table. He pokes his head out of his cocoon, squinting warily towards the door. “Are you alone?”

 

"Yep, 3000%."

 

The way his heart is pounding slows down somewhat when he actually sets eyes on Midorima, _confirming_ that he's alive, and at least _seemingly_ okay. Takao exhales a long, slow breath, finally remembering to kick his shoes off as he makes his way into his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him. "Geez. What a day, right?" he laughs, the sound high-pitched and anxious as he flops down onto the side of his bed. 

 

Which is about as far as his calm facade goes, truth be told. 

 

"That scared the _crap_ out of me." Takao just lies down on the cocoon that is Midorima, breathing in deeply. "I was ready to fight someone. Are you okay?" 

 

“Lie on me harder,” comes the muffled sentence that’s mostly put-out, mixed with some relief. “That was absolutely one of the worst experiences of my young life, and I am quite willing to whatever it takes to avoid it ever happening again. Squash me, please.”

 

"Can I be like, _on you_ on you?" Takao doesn't wait for a confirmation and just rips the blankets open in favor of diving underneath them and right atop Midorima's chest. "There," he mutters, yanking the blankets around them again, and settling his full weight atop of Midorima in short order. 

 

Midorima might feel as solid as ever, but Takao can feel the cold clamminess of sweat, the occasional remaining tremor, and so he buries his face into the side of the other boy's neck, his fingers pawing their way up into Midorima's hair to properly hold onto him. "Squashing, commenced. Tell me what happened? Akashi _better_ have fucking saved your ass. I went over to Kagami's and yelled in his face." 

 

“I feel so stupid,” Midorima mutters, ducking his head to be fully encased in Takao’s arms, as feels good and proper for the moment. He breathes in deeply--yes, that’s the smell of Takao, good and clean and pure and a little bit spicy, what a relief. He breathes a few times, and feels the trembling start to subside, finally, at long last. 

 

“You saw when they, ah, asked me to come along. His father...” Midorima shakes his head slowly, remembering. “He asked me once where Akashi was. I told him sort of generically that he’d gone ‘out,’ and must have left his phone, and I was covering for him to the driver as I expected him back any moment. It was the best I could, ah, think of at the time.”

 

He rubs a hand over his face, trying to mitigate the stress in remembering. “His father stared at me, and then told me he knew my family. Just like that. Just, ‘I know your family, Midorima Shintarou.’ It...it wasn’t even a threat. I don’t know what it was.”

 

It had been enough to send cold shivers down his spine, that’s for certain.

 

Takao doesn't like that. He hadn't liked any of this before, to be sure, but he likes hearing about this even less. He bites his tongue about a dozen things-- _you shouldn't feel stupid, Akashi's the stupid one, he put you up to this!--_ which all feels very childish and unhelpful. So, he just drags his fingers through Midorima's hair, gently and methodically petting. "Yeah. What'd you say to that?" 

 

“I told him that brought great honor to my family, to be known by someone so noble,” Midorima says shortly. “I wasn’t raised in a barn, fool.” 

 

That feels good to say, giving him some of his bearings back, helping him find his feet. He butts his head against Takao’s fingers, taking a deep breath. “Right. So. He nodded at me, and said that he was going to ask me to stay for the moment, because it was some sort of guarantee that Akashi would show up. Some woman poured tea, I think.” Midorima rarely notices the things women do. “He told me my resume was impressive, as if he’d been studying me. Then he told me I was brave for wanting to be a doctor--because so much could go wrong along the way.”

 

"That makes me wanna punch someone," Takao lightly says, trying to keep his voice calm and cheerful. "Geez, what the hell. What could go wrong? Why would you say something like that to someone?" He's getting close to venting, so he just focuses on _Midorima_ again, and cradling that stupid, beautiful head and _petting him_. "So what, did Akashi show up? He _better_ have showed up."  

 

“He showed up right around then,” Midorima confirms. “I...I have no idea how long it was. I didn’t grab my lucky item when they asked me to come in--stupid, that was very foolish of me.” He reaches up to push up his glasses, only to notice that they are currently not on his face. Well, that’s all for the best. They’d only get scrunched up against Takao’s chest in any case. “Akashi arrived. He dropped onto the ground, kowtowing and everything, it was very stressful to watch. His father...I don’t want to see a smile like that again. He just sort of...sat down and said they’d settle it, and that I was free to go. As if I’d been arrested!”

 

"Ugh. Fucking _gross._ "

 

It's not like he _likes_ Akashi all that much or anything, but it's still so weird to imagine having to apologize to a parent like that. Or, well--to have to deal with aparent like that at all, really weird! Takao's mouth twists, and he pulls back, enough to straddle Midorima's chest and look down at him properly. "No more phone babysitting. You're not getting caught up in his bullshit again." 

 

Midorima jerks his head back, startled. “I can’t back out on him now. Not that I’ll be allowed to act as a character witness for him again as far as his father is concerned, but I might still be able to do _something_. I can’t leave him alone when his father is...like this. He’s my friend.”

 

"I'm not telling you to leave him alone, I'm telling you _no more phone babysitting_. And no more _lying_ for him."

 

Takao exhales a long sigh, scrubbing a hand back through his hair. "Shin-chan, you're his friend, but if it means that you're gonna get in a lot of trouble…he can't expect you to keep going out on a limb for him. That's just douchey. I mean, yeah, his dad obviously sucks and is a total asshat. So…like…I dunno. Help him brainstorm ideas, but don't put your own ass on the line again. You're not his _shield_." 

 

“He doesn’t expect me to be.” Midorima may not know Akashi’s mind entirely--that sounds like a job for someone far different than he--but he knows this much, at least. “You should have seen his face when he came in. He was...distraught. More than I’ve seen in a long time. He wouldn’t ask me to put myself in harm’s way again, I don’t think. If he does, I’ll know that he isn’t...isn’t the man I thought he’d returned to being.”

 

"…Okay," Takao warily allows, relaxing marginally. "If you say so. I just--I don't know, I never know with that guy. You're weird, when you talk about him." It's not meant as an insult, merely a sort of baffled observation, and he slumps back down, his head thunking down against Midorima's shoulder. "And I really don't like seeing you that upset or scared about _anything_. Way to give me a heart attack, Shin-chan." 

 

“I nearly had one myself, idiot. It’s nothing I wanted.” At this point, Midorima is mostly insulting Takao as a force of habit, not that he’d ever admit that. He slowly twines his arms around Takao’s waist, tugging him closer. “I hope he’s all right. I’m sure Kagami would be devastated if he were shipped off to some secret compound or something.” There’s absolutely no levity in that bleak statement.

 

" _God_ ," Takao groans, shoving his face into the side of Midorima's neck. "I feel for that guy. He doesn't _get it_. Total sweetheart, too, I dunno how long he's gonna be able to stick around and deal with this kind of shit. Oh, fuck," he mutters, reaching back half-heartedly to where his phone is still jammed into his back pocket. "I should text him, let him know that you're alive and that Akashi is _probably_ alive…" 

 

“I guarantee that he cares about Akashi, but far less about me,” Midorima says, muffled into Takao’s shoulder where he feels he belongs. “He’s an idiot too. I know people have warned him by now.”

 

"He asked about you, so don't say things like that, Shin-chan," Takao murmurs, rubbing one hand through Midorima's hair again as he texts with the other. "Man…I was trying to explain about meika lines and fiancé things and I probably screwed it up, but I tried." 

 

**To: Kagami Taiga**

**From: Takao Kazunari *:** **・ﾟ** ✧ **.**

**Subject: He lives!**

**Shin-chan is okay. Your boyfriend seems to be fine as far as the report goes, too…sorry I don't have more news. Take it easy, or try to.**

 

**To: Hawk**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: !!!!**

**thnx so much!!!!!**

 

“Don’t tell people about Kiyoko,” Midorima groans. “That doesn’t help me forget she exists.”

 

"Sooorry. I was just trying to make a point." Takao's phone hits the nightstand, abandoned for now as he flops around to better get all of his limbs around Midorima. "You feeling okay now?" he murmurs, his voice softening significantly. "You scared the crap out of me, I was seriously ready to kidnap you and hide you from the Bad Guys, like we were in an action movie or something." 

 

“Very cool, but not appreciated,” Midorima sighs. “As much as they did introduce me to Kiyoko, I do somewhat tolerate my parents.” It’s a little more than that, but that wouldn’t sound cool, rebellious, disaffected, and very high school.

 

"Mm…but I'd still kidnap you, because I don't like seeing you all stressed out and stuff." Takao grabs Midorima's face in his hands, tugging him over for a soft kiss--they're a _lot_ easier to steal, when Midorima doesn't have his glasses on. "Oh, yeah. I also fucked up and let slip that you two dated before," he sheepishly admits. "I got mad and was ranting a little, sorry. Today in general just set me off." 

 

“It wasn’t exactly a good day,” Midorima murmurs, letting himself be kissed quite thoroughly before relinquishing his lips, then changing his mind and kissing Takao again for good measure. Yes, that helps with the stress better than just about anything he can imagine. “I don’t care if Kagami knows we went on three stupid failed dates in middle school. I doubt Akashi cares, either.” _How could I mind when you’re so perfect?_

 

"Oh, good--I didn't know if that was some weird, secret thing…like every other weird, secret thing," Takao idly mutters. Well, whatever--guess what's way _more_ interesting? Kissing Midorima with every bit of relief that he feels because Midorima is okay and here in his bed, and not shaking like a leaf anymore, god. Takao slings a leg over Midorima's hip, the most efficient way to stay plastered to him for sure, and kisses him again, slow and thorough. "I'd hide you under my bed to keep you," he mumbles. "But you're too big. Shrink, Shin-chan." 

 

“Idiot. You’re the one that should grow. I’m of a proper height for basketball.” Nonetheless, Midorima nuzzles into Takao’s chest, rolling so that Takao is on top of him again. “I don’t know why I want you on top of me so much. It just feels more real this way.”

 

"Too big for me to squash completely, though," Takao complains, not _entirely_ complaining when Midorima is such a nice, solid thing to nestle up against and flop against. "Shin-chan, I'm gonna tell you a thing." He steals another kiss, his smile warm against Midorima's mouth. "I love you a lot." 

 

“Fool,” Midorima says softly, closing his eyes and burrowing deep into Takao’s chest. “Don’t look at me for a moment.” 

 

Once he’s sure Takao isn’t looking, he mutters, “I love you too. Idiot.”

 

~

 

Akashi has done some horrible things in his life, but not a great number of _stupid_ ones, or so he'd like to think. 

 

This, undoubtedly, is considered stupid.

 

Processing that is easier said than done. Singular thoughts, that's what he can deal with, and every single one of them is centered around _finish your recruiting this weekend._

 

That means Kagami Taiga. 

 

That means Kagami Taiga, and his apartment, which is a subway line and several train stops away. It's late by the time his father stops sternly lecturing him, dark outside with the street lights making his vision spin, and Akashi huddles up in his coat as he picks his way up the stairs.

 

_"Don't lie to me, you didn't just space out and forget. It was that woman, wasn't it? Did you think I wouldn't notice your hair or those bruises? Disgusting, Seijuurou."_

 

He's never wanted to thank Mibuchi more for already giving him that alibi weeks ago. If he were really as smart as everyone thinks he is, he'd take that alibi and run with it and leave Kagami _alone_.

 

_"Such is youth, I suppose. Very well; it's not necessary for you to return to Tokyo for your class on the weekends with this in mind. I've already spoken to your professor and found your work to be completed. As for the basketball nonsense--"_

 

It's not nonsense, it's not something to be thrown away, it's _not_. 

 

Akashi stops his thoughts before they can keep skimming the rest of the conversation, all of his apologies, all of his father's casual dismissiveness, every stomping of his heel into each and everything that made it all _worth it._ Midorima ( _"you'll be supervised, the next time you want to visit him"_ ), Kagami, basketball, _everything_ \--

 

He swallows around that bitterness as he knocks on the door. It's too quiet, he knows, and he wavers before trying again, bile rising in his throat, pretty sure he's going to faint or vomit or both. _Why?_ he frantically tries to piece together, taking a step back from the door. It feels uncannily like a loss already--like he's lost _this,_ whatever it is. 

 

As Akashi stares down at his feet, the ground seems to wobble. The worst, this is the worst, he's the worst, the worst the worst the worst the _worst_ \--

 

Kagami throws open the door, and yanks Akashi inside by the front of his shirt, closing and locking the door after him in the same fluid motion that he pulls Akashi into his arms with. It’s a sudden rush of warmth, of relief that even though he’d been sure Takao was overreacting, Akashi is still alive and whole and _with him_. “I was worried sick. You okay?”

 

It's far from the reaction Akashi expected--or maybe it's the one he was desperately and pathetically hoping for, he can't even tell the difference. Kagami is so warm and solid and suddenly wrapped around him that his knees buckle, and only clinging to him with all his strength keeps Akashi on his feet. "No," is the muffled whisper against Kagami's chest. There's an urge to apologize for being like this, but he can't even think of the words.

 

“Okay.” Kagami tugs him over to the couch, surprisingly reminded of the way Himuro had showed up after a fight with his mother, or when his audition for a singing competition had been rejected. At least this time, physical comfort is something he can offer. He arranges Akashi on his lap, tugging a blanket over both of them. “Do you want to talk? Or do you want me to just...put on a movie and let you vegetate?”

 

Akashi folds into a neatly compact ball within Kagami's lap. He wavers, very nearly visibly swaying with indecision before he simply slithers down underneath the blanket until it's entirely over his head and he's merely a lump against Kagami's chest. "I need to do nothing right now." 'Vegetate' is another good word for it, sure. It's something his father never understands, something maybe only Murasakibara has understood prior to now, when Akashi would show up and face plant on his friend's bed for hours at a time to the sound of video games and snack bags.

 

“Okay.” Kagami picks up the tv remote, casually discarded much earlier, and flips around Pay Per View, muttering highly uncomplimentary things about the state of Japanese TV before switching back to the DVD currently in the player. “You’re not gonna kill me if I put on Space Jam, are you?” For at least the two-hundredth time.

 

"No." 

 

At some point, Akashi burrows deeper, curling up underneath both blanket and underneath Kagami's shirt. Listening to the solid, loud beat of Kagami's heart is a million times better than it has any right to be, and the tremors and tension start to melt away after what feels like forever (probably an hour, what is time?).

 

Akashi vaguely grabs at Kagami's arm underneath the blanket, pulling that hand over to cuddle it to his chest. Apologize? He should probably apologize. This is _not_ the way he wants anyone to see him, least of all Kagami.

 

Kagami relinquishes his hand immediately, then wraps the other arm around Akashi, tracing gentle patterns on his back. He’d intended to just sit and be the support Akashi needs for as long as he can--but at some point, he finds himself actually getting into the movie, no matter how stupid it is, no matter how many times he’s seen it, and no matter if it’s just an extended Air Jordans commercial. 

 

 _Just be there. All you can do_. Kagami tries to take that to heart, following Alex’s advice when he’d called in a panic, demanding to know what to do if a friend is in an all-out war with his father. 

 

_I’m here, Seijuurou. I hope that’s enough._

 

Another hour, and Akashi slowly emerges, still holding onto Kagami's hand and peering blearily to the movie--mostly over, what even--and then back up at Kagami. "I want to live in your shirt." Sure--it seems logical to say something like that, right now, of all times.

 

“Good.” Kagami gives Akashi a wry little smile, tugging the shirt down over him further. “You feel good there. Hey, when you put your ear on my chest like that, can you hear my heart beat?”

 

"Mm. I've been listening to it." 

 

Akashi burrows back down, shutting his eyes. "Was that a whole movie about Michael Jordan and aliens, and _why_." 

 

“Um, this movie rocks. It’s about Michael Jordan and aliens _and the Looney Tunes_. And Bill Murray, at one point.”

 

"Sure. The way you play makes me think of Michael Jordan." Akashi pauses, and revises. "A young one. Big difference." 

 

He flops down until he's sprawled across Kagami's lap rather than being _in_ his shirt and becoming something of a cancerous growth. This is equally as good, probably.

 

“Really? Holy shit.” Kagami’s hands go to Akashi’s hair, petting and carding and stroking through it. “That’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever--ooh, wait, here’s Bill Murray’s cameo.”

 

"American movies are strange," Akashi mutters, closing his eyes and shoving his face down into Kagami's thigh. "You'll be better than Michael Jordan."

 

“I wish he were still playing so I could prove it.” Not that that’s a secret dream of his or anything. Kagami strokes his hand down over Akashi’s arm, feeling that pulse steady out more with every passing minute. “Hey, they could always make a Space Jam 2. ‘This Time, It’s Asian.’”

 

"That would be terrible. And probably racist. I'd fund it." Akashi exhales a slow, slightly hitching breath, his fingers curling against Kagami's knee as he cracks an eye open to follow the movement of Kagami's petting. "You're good at this." 

 

“I’m not doing anything. Just, you know, being here.” Kagami leans down, and brushes a gentle kiss against one of Akashi’s temples. “Lemme know when you want to eat, I’ll make you something.”

 

"Most people aren't good at that," Akashi murmurs. "I'm not going to be hungry, but thank you." 

 

“You can change your mind whenever.” How can he know that he won’t be hungry? Kagami is usually hungry. If he isn’t at the moment, he will be soon. “You feeling a little better, or you want me to put on another movie? I have Ghostbusters if you want more Bill Murray.”

 

"You don't need to put on another movie. I've had my fill of Bill Murray, thank you." Akashi makes to sit up, then flops right back down. "I'm fine. This is fine." 

 

“There’s really no such thing as too much Bill Murray,” Kagami says frankly, and flips off the movie during the credits. “So. Give me the lowdown. What’s the damage, and how do we fix it?”

 

Maybe if he talks about it in the form of an ordered list, it won't be so bad. Akashi's next attempt to sit up is more successful, even as he sways back into a corner of the couch and flops there with a thump. "My father canceled my class in Tokyo," he starts with, because that's the easiest one to deal with. "He talked to the professor and found out I had already finished all of the work, so it's moot, according to him." 

 

Kagami nods, stretching out his feet to brush against Akashi’s leg, giving him at least that much contact. “Okay. I figured that might happen. That’s not a big deal, though. We’ve got Skype, and I can always come down to Kyoto.”

 

Akashi nods absently. As expected, it sounds much less like the end of the world when Kagami phrases it like that, even if it's simply the _principle of the thing_ that still puts his entire being on edge. "I'm supposed to wrap up my recruiting for the team this weekend, too. I shouldn't have to put 'that much effort' into extracurriculars…and any further visits to Tokyo will require that I stay at my own house or a hotel. I have to be _supervised_ with Shintarou, like I'm a toddler." 

 

“To be fair, you don’t spend that much time with him,” Kagami points out, nudging Akashi with one socked toe. “And you can say you’re wrapping up the recruiting just fine, because I’ll submit my finalized official request for transfer on Monday. Then it looks like you were doing something right, right?”

 

"It's the principle of it all; it's _Shintarou_ , I've never gotten scolded for anything to do with him," Akashi mutters, grabbing at Kagami's foot and shimmying down further into the couch to basically just hug Kagami's entire lower leg to himself. "Nothing I do is right, according to my father." 

 

“Your dad is an asshole.” Kagami is pretty sure he’s not out-of-line in pronouncing that. “Seriously, he can’t just appreciate the fact that his kid is top of his class, student council president, and a freaking captain of a Nationally-ranked basketball team?”

 

"Not Nationally-winning," Akashi dully points out. "I lost. He likes pointing that out." His mouth twists. "He's so good at making me feel like I've ruined everything, even when _he's_ the one ruining everything." 

 

Kagami grimaces. Not that he would have entertained the idea of throwing the match or anything if he’d known, but...it sucks nonetheless, to know that he’d indirectly been responsible for part of Akashi’s troubles with his dad. “Not for nothing, but...you know if you’d won, he’d probably have found something else to hate. You can’t make guys like that happy. It’s not your fault.”

 

 _It is my fault, though_ is on the tip of his tongue, but Akashi doesn't say it. He just nods, not really agreeing, and curls his fingers tightly around Kagami's calf. "I suppose it's nothing new for him to be like this. The rest isn't even worth saying, it makes me sound like an imbecile." 

 

“You know I’m kind of an idiot, right?” Kagami prods, trying not to be too intrusive. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but if it’s something you’re upset about...I mean, if I can make it better, even if it’s just to vent or whatever...I’d like to hear it.” How the hell does one comfort Akashi Seijuurou? Is he doing a good job? It’s impossible to say, he’s pretty sure.

 

"You're not an idiot." Akashi wonders how many times he'll have to say that before it gets nailed into Kagami's skull--but then again, he's sure Kagami feels the same way about him, for some things. 

 

Akashi falls silent, mulling it over--or trying to, but the second he even _thinks_ about it, he can already feel his throat closing up and his eyes stinging and no, this is the _worst thing_ , he can't be like this around anyone, let alone _Kagami Taiga_ who doesn't think he's such an stupid, selfish, childish _fool_. Maybe if he just says it already, that'll be enough to make this horrible feeling go away, and he can be calm and _accept it_. "He won't let me bring my horse down to Kyoto," he blurts out,slinking down further into the couch. "Even after he promised it would be fine after first year." 

 

Kagami sits up, face suddenly intent and furious. “What the--what a fucking asshole! You _love_ that horse!” 

 

It’s not like someone can have a half-dozen Skype dates with Akashi Seijuurou before getting around to asking who the heck Yukimaru is, or through an hour of a shogi game without hearing about how lovely it would be to ride through the area surrounding Kyoto, and Kagami is many things, but unobservant usually isn’t one of them. “What was his fucking excuse?”

 

"That the company we contract through for shipping isn't frequenting the Kyoto area any longer, so I'll just have to wait until he gets around to f-finding someone else, but it's fine, because I s…should be focusing on school, anyway, and my weekends will already be full..." 

 

Nooo no no no no no. Talking about it was a poor decision. This is the worst, the _absolute_ worst. Akashi can feel the lump in his throat, and swallowing around it just makes him hiccup and…well, that breaks the dam on the waterworks, sending stinging, hot tears down his face. He whips around, shoving his face into the back of the couch. "C-can you not look at me for a minute?" 

 

Kagami grabs Akashi under overwhelming impulse, squashing him to his chest. “I’m not looking, I promise, okay? Just...it’s fine, go ahead, I’m just thinking about Space Jam.”

 

Takao, Midorima, Kuroko, Himuro, and everyone else can fuck right off. No one is allowed to tell him that Akashi Seijuurou is a bad mean scary intimidating person, not after he’s seen Akashi cry like a heartbroken child because he can’t have his pet horse. At the moment, the idea of getting into a fistfight over Akashi sounds oddly appealing.

 

It's unfortunate that being held just makes him cry _harder_. God, at least he's not noisy about it, like Kise, who wails like a child, but Akashi is well aware that he shakes as badly as Midorima, and no amount of grabbing hold of Kagami and clinging with a vice-tight grip makes that _stop_. 

 

"This is s-so humiliating," he groans into Kagami's chest, trying not to sniffle, failing, and so his shoulders heave harder with his next sob as a result. "I hate this--I hate _him_ , I kept up my end of the bargain, this isn't fair. He doesn't even know Yukimaru's _name_." 

 

“That’s because he’s a _dick_.” Alex had told him that the best way was to be comforting without insulting the parent in questions. What does she know? She’s American. Kagami gleefully throws her advice out the window now that it’s convenient, and holds Akashi firmly closer. “Seriously, _fuck_ that guy--and fuck him for using a lame-ass excuse, like he couldn’t pay some dude with a horse trailer to take him down?”

 

"He just w-wants a way to punish me without making it look like he went back on his word, clearly." Akashi exhales a wet huff. "Have….have you ever just wanted to throw _so badly_ into someone's face that you're _extremely_ gay and have no interest in school or running a business or getting married and are still pretty sure that's fine? W-when he does things like this, that's all I can think of, and it was _so_ hard not to say things like that today." His laughs is somewhat high-pitched as it escapes into Kagami's chest. "Because of a stupid horse. I'm pathetic." 

 

“I don’t know Yukimaru,” Kagami says carefully, frowning as he squashes Akashi tightly, “but if he’s yours, he’s probably like, better at math than me. But yeah, I’ve wanted to do literally exactly that. God. I used to think about running away and sending my dad a card or something of me kissing a guy and giving him the finger. You know, like, uh, a rude gesture?”

 

"I'd like to think Yukimaru can read kanji at at least a third grade level, but no…" Akashi rubs his face into Kagami's chest, wincing at how his face stings, but unwilling to stop hiding it just yet. "I know what that means, and it sounds way more appealing than it should right now." 

 

“I’m gonna say something. Don’t freak out, because I’m just mad-talking, okay?” Kagami heaves out a sigh. “I don’t mean it seriously. Just a fantasy. But. Let’s fucking do it. Run away together.”

 

"Okay." It's probably in poor taste to agree so easily. Oh well. Akashi scrubs a hand across the back of his eyes. "To where? Los Angeles?"

 

“Yeah. At first. We’ll go to a Lakers game, and you can see Kobe play.” This sounds way better than it should. “Then I’ll get my license and rent us a car, and we’ll go on a road trip. Stop at hotels, eat fast food. We can head down into Mexico, outlaws always hide in Mexico.”

 

"This sounds flawed, but all right. Let's do it." Akashi slumps, finally staring up at Kagami through his bangs. "How much do you think people in Mexico know about shogi? Not much, I'm assuming. Time to change that." 

 

“We can rent a house for like, what it costs to pay for parking here. A _big_ house. A house big enough to have _ten_ horses, and servants to pick up after them.” Kagami isn’t entirely sure what kind of maintenance horses require, but it’s probably more than none.

 

Uh oh, here we go again. Akashi feels his lower lip tremble, which at least is warning enough to get his face down into Kagami's shoulder before he starts crying like an idiot again. "I don't even _need_ servants or 10 horses, I'd do it myself, I just want _Yukimaru_." In Mexico, apparently!

 

“I’d get you a whole mountain.” Shit, this got really lame and romantic, really fast. Whatever, Kagami is going with it. “With trails everywhere. On the beach--did I tell you that in L.A. people rent horses to go riding on the beach?”

 

"You can't do that here, which I think is also _unfair_ ," Akashi mumbles, sniffling as he winds his arms around Kagami's neck. "Put me in your suitcase and take me." 

 

“I’ll poke some air holes,” Kagami promises, tugging Akashi close, then kissing him soundly on the lips. “Hey. Fantasy aside, I’d fight someone for you. Anyone.”

 

"…Please don't fight anyone. Ugh, and don't kiss me right now, I'm very disgusting." Akashi draws back enough to scrub his sleeve over his face, breathing out a long, shaky exhale. "I don't know what to do," he admits with a weary laugh. "Drop it, I suppose. I'm bad at this kind of thing. Are you sure you still want to come to Rakuzan? Knowing my father, he'll make me quit the team in a semester."

 

“...I’m asking because I really don’t understand, okay?” Kagami asks, frowning. “But how can he _make_ you? I mean, I get that he’s an awful scary dude--but if we win Nationals it’ll be all right, won’t it? And we will.”

 

"It's just as easy as him telling me what classes to take and which ones to not. That's all it is, to him." Akashi sighs, grabbing onto the bottom of Kagami's shirt to have something to fiddle with. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be so negative. Talking to my father for any extensive period of time, especially like this--it doesn't make me feel like myself." 

 

For anyone else, that would sound pretty normal. From Akashi, it’s mildly alarming. Kagami brushes his hand over Akashi’s cheek, then says, “You should eat, or move, or something. If I cook, you wanna come into the kitchen with me?”

 

Akashi hesitates, then nods, butting his head lightly into Kagami's hand. "Don't be offended if I don't eat. It's not your cooking, trust me." 

 

“I won’t be offended. I don’t really expect anyone to eat as much as me...heh, except Aomine.” He definitely mutters something that sounds like _not that he can afford to eat as much as me,_ but with the sink running, it’s impossible to tell. Hopefully.

 

Akashi flops his way across the kitchen table, which feels surprisinglynicer than it should. There's also something inherently soothing about watching Kagami cook, and every balm to his nerves that he can get right now, he'll take. "May I say something that's going to sound _so_ horrible?" He doesn't wait to be told yes. "I am so…so glad that you have money, too."

 

Kagami looks warily back over his shoulder, then straps on an apron. He turns back to the counter, grabbing an onion and starting to chop. “I hate to say it...but I know what you mean. I mean, it’s nice to just...not have to explain myself when I say I’m going to do something or buy something. Or to be able to suggest going out instead of being worried I’m gonna hurt someone’s feelings, or that they’re gonna be jealous of me when it’s such a stupid, arbitrary thing, you know? It’s not like I _did_ anything, it’s just that my dad got lucky in the stock market and made some not-stupid choices.”

 

"Then you'll love extremely prestigious private high school. That's not sarcasm, by the way. It's just relaxing because no one cares anymore." The chopping motion of a knife shouldn't be that mesmerizing. Oh well. "In middle school, I made my driver drop me off a block away so no one would say anything. At Rakuzan, half the student population has a driver, so even if I didn't live in the dorms, no one would _care_." 

 

“Kids in L.A. are fucking weird about money. I went to public school, but in a really well-off area.” Kagami isn’t even entirely sure what he’s making yet--fried rice? Sure, fried rice. He grabs a large cast-iron pan, and sets it onto the burner, turning the flame all the way up as he slices a carrot. “Everyone brags about it. I hate that, too. They’d literally hire limos to come to school because they want to look richer than they are. Everyone has designer everything, and they’re always talking about ‘the staff’ like they’re not human. It’s...really gross. So when I moved here I tried not to say anything at all--and then my team kinda flipped out at me when they found out where I live.”

 

Akashi raises one hand tiredly off of the table. "Similar experience. I did a very good job of not letting anyone know about me in middle school, until Shintarou started getting worried about me and blabbed to the whole team. Aomine started getting weird, Kise way too nervous…that kind of thing. I honestly don't see the point. What are you making, it's making me hungry." 

 

“Fried rice. I’m making enough for leftovers, so there’ll be a hell of a lot. You want to help prep? I have another knife.” He bustles around the kitchen, taking down sesame oil, soy sauce, chili oil, green peas, and eggs.

 

"Ah…sorry. It's probably not good for me to hold a knife right now." Akashi fumbles for his phone, tugging it out of his back pocket. No messages, no calls. That's better. 

 

Sure. That’s not weird or unsettling or anything.

 

Kagami finishes his chopping, then starts tossing ingredients into the pan, soon filling the kitchen with the aroma of garlic, ginger, and soy. The smells are as soothing as the vegetable preparation, and he inhales deeply. “Nice. Your dad isn’t blowing up your phone, is he? Ah, I didn’t even think--can you stay the night, or no?”

 

"I'm already in trouble, what's one more thing to add to the list?" Akashi murmurs, wavering between sending Midorima an apology right now--or wait. Did he already send one? He checks his outbox. Yes. Well, good. "My father already had to take off to Sendai for another meeting. Highly inconveniencing him once per day tends to be the max on his level of caring, which is both helpful to know and somewhat infuriating…also, if he hears I'm not back home, he'll just think I'm with a prostitute." 

 

Kagami spits out the carrot he was sneaking for a snack, fortunately hitting the sink. “The _what_?”

 

"Oh. Did I neglect to mention that?"

 

“That you visit prostitutes? Uh, _yeah_.”

 

"Ah, my bad. This should really be explained more thoroughly." Akashi straightens up, tucking his phone away. "I don't _visit_ them. It's a cover up mechanism. Well, I suppose I went to her apartment that one night, but all we did was play shogi…" 

 

Kagami makes a face, stirring the vegetables in hot oil several times more firmly than he needs to. “So you’re the kind of guy that will play shogi with just anyone, huh?” he teases. “Did you wear gloves, or should I get tested?”

 

"…I will play shogi with just about anyone, yes. She seemed _very_ clean, although it's not as if I touched her." Akashi's expression is wry. "It was Reo's idea. _Someone_ had left at least a dozen hickeys all over my neck, and I was worried about going home."

 

“...ah.” 

 

Kagami grins sheepishly, then adds a bit of chicken broth to caramelize the onions faster, stirring vigorously. “Okay, fair enough. The glove thing was a condom joke, by the way.”

 

"Ah. Right." Akashi makes a face. "Missed that one, probably because I hate them. Every time I see Shintarou, he gives me another box. It's getting out of hand, I don't even see him that often." 

 

“It’s not like we can use them _that_ fast, anyway,” Kagami grumbles. “Jeez. Makes you wonder how often those guys are doing it. Gross.”

 

"Often, one can assume?" A sigh follows that. "At least my father thinks I'm some kind of a _straight_ sex addict. Good grief, what is the appeal." 

 

“Tits freak me out.” Kagami tests a carrot, then nods to himself and tosses in a large bowl of leftover rice along with a cup of frozen peas, stirring it all together before letting the rice sizzle. “I don’t even want to think about the other thing. Doing it without a dick sounds really wrong.”

 

"At least you don't _have_ to have children."

 

“I’d need some IVF or a turkey baster,” Kagami says honestly. “Uh, that’s like...a squirty tube thing. Sorry. American joke. You guys don’t have turkeys.”

 

Akashi blinks back at him. "Sure. Or just mind over matter. Hypothetically, I can do this. Thinking about it in terms of winning is good." 

 

“I heard Japanese guys think whoever tops is the winner, right?” Remembering, Kagami snorts. “Like it’s not gay if you’re topping. Kuroko apparently has a bet going with Midorima about which of us is a cat.”

 

"About which of us is…oh. Right. That joke. I still don't get it, even after having it explained to me several times." Akashi drops his chin into his hands. "People _do_ realize that male cats exist…right? Mystifying. Why can't you just say that you like it a certain way, and having it done like that is winning because you're getting what you want?" He shuts his eyes. "God. I was just reminded of how my team immediately proclaimed Reo to be my _girlfriend_." 

 

“The cat thing bothers me because it’s _inconsistent_ , why is one a cat and the other...a guy who does whatever he wants?? Does that mean he’s doing something to a cat? Cats don’t even _have_ gay sex, do they?” Japan is confusing.

 

"I think it's because cats are supposed to be cuter." Akashi stares him dead in the eye, flopping one wrist half-heartedly with a curled hand. "'Meow', that sort of thing. Admittedly, I think cats are cuter than dogs, but…"

 

“Dogs aren’t good.” Kagami casts a withering glance at the abandoned dog bowl of water in the corner of his kitchen, which hasn’t seen a doggy tongue in a few weeks now. _Should really put that up._ He doesn’t, though, for some reason.

 

“You like egg in your rice? A lot, a little, none at all?”

 

"None, but I can pick around it. I don't _mind_ dogs if they behave themselves, but dirty, obnoxious ones that aren't trained…ugh. Cats are cute. There are a lot of strays in Kyoto, but if I feed them, they get too dependent…" By the tone of his voice, this has clearly been a long struggle.

 

“You’d be super cute covered in cats.” Kagami deftly scrambles an egg into only his side of the pan, then serves up two hefty plates, setting them on the kitchen table. “I probably gave you way too much. Just eat what you want, I’ll save the rest.”

 

"Maybe if I give _you_ the food to feed them on occasion, they won't get _so_ attached to me," Akashi considers aloud, picking up his chopsticks. His hands have stopped shaking, so that's a huge positive. "Thank you for the meal--you know, I had tofu this week at a local shop, but yours was better."

 

Startlingly enough, that makes Kagami blush more than anything he can remember in recent memory. “Thanks. I’ll make it for you any time. If I run to the store and get some more beans, I could do it in the morning after they soak...” He reaches over and brushes a strand of hair back from Akashi’s face. “I like the way you smile when I feed you.”

 

Akashi grabs at that hand automatically, pulling it to his lips to kiss his palm. "I'd tell you to do it, but I don't want you to leave," he admits, all kinds of embarrassed with himself, but not even able to care. "I'm sorry about today, Taiga. It was not at all ideal." 

 

“That’s kind of an understatement.” Kagami ruffles his hair, then leans over and kisses Akashi’s cheek. “You know, a lot of people go through shit that isn’t ideal. We can get through it. I was _gonna_ bring you to the store _with_ me, by the way.”

 

"Oh. Fair enough, I don't know why that didn't occur to me." Akashi's attention turns to his food, which he thinks is fair, because one bite is enough to remind him that normal human appetites are good things. "I'm going to be terribly inadequate on White Day insofar as anything handmade, apologies in advance." 

 

Kagami flaps a hand at that. “White Day isn’t a thing in America, so don’t worry about it. I’m not used to getting anything for Valentine’s, either.” That probably sounds kind of lame, but he’s not really here to impress anyone. “I mean, it’s just that I hung out with Tatsuya in school, and his appeal is legendary.”

 

"Is it? Maybe to women." Or maybe pretty boys are the opposite of his type, whatever. "Well, I'm at least _getting_ you something, fair warning. Don't feel like you have to return the gesture, but we're both men, we might as well capitalize."

 

“Fine, then I’ll get you something, too.” It feels lame to make plans for getting a present, but whatever. Kagami has probably done weirder and lamer things in his life. “Do you even like chocolate? I’m pretty sure you do chocolate and puns on Valentine’s Day.”

 

"Puns? I think that's an American thing." Akashi picks his way through his rice, then nudges his plate over once he's finished. "I like chocolate well enough. An acquired taste, probably, because of several friends. Is there anything you _don't_ like?" 

 

“Dogs and ghosts. When it comes to food, I’ll pretty much enjoy anything.” And to illustrate that point, Kagami gulps down the rest of Akashi’s rice in what would be record time for anyone else, and is pretty much normal for himself. “You’re supposed to put the pun in the card. Like, if you give someone a stuffed bear, it’s ‘you’re bear-y nice, Valentine!’ I dunno, America is weird.”

 

"Very weird." Akashi raises an eyebrow as he plops his chin down in one hand, watching Kagami. "Typically, the Japanese language allows for a bit more of a subtle touch with things like romance…or, if you're dating someone that lived in America for some time, you bear with occasional bluntness over Skype and are thankful that 'at least it isn't a pun.'" 

 

“Hey, I’m cute on Skype.” Kagami is entirely certain that he is, in fact, adorable. He slides the plates into the sink, burping into his fist a bit. “You want anything else? Watch a movie, play a game...it’s cool if you don’t really want to do much right now.”

 

Akashi pulls himself to his feet, content with how much steadier he feels. It's probably _not_ good that he's pleased about how the earth isn't wobbling underneath him, but he'll take it. "Mm. I'm not dead yet." His head knocks into the back of Kagami's shoulder, one hand grabbing at his shirt. "You make me feel better."

 

“Good.” There’s a lot of stuff that Kagami wouldn’t mind saying--that Akashi makes him feel good too, that being able to return the favor keeps him going when he’d be falling apart otherwise, that he hasn’t even done anything except watch Space Jam--but it would sound like false modesty, and Kagami doesn’t even have any real modesty. “Then let’s keep you feeling better. Anything you wanna do?”

 

" _Now_ you're being dumb," Akashi half-heartedly chides, petulantly tugging on Kagami's shirt again. "Bend down, I _want_ to kiss you."

 

Instead of bending (memories of ankle break flashing in his mind), Kagami simply scoops Akashi up, kissing him in the same instant, letting Akashi’s feet dangle a couple inches off the ground with a strong arm around his waist. “You’re heavier than you look,” he teases, and leans in again, seeking that heat, that sweet wet warmth.

 

"Rude," is the disinterested mutter against Kagami's mouth. This is a very acceptable alternative, and so both of Akashi's arms immediately wrap around Kagami's neck, his hands sliding up and through his hair. Kissing Kagami smacks away that last, horrible bit of worried, wary tension in his gut--this isn't ruined, not yet, not if they can both help it--and Akashi grabs harder, insistent and unabashedly clinging. 

 

“Am I gonna freak you out if I move us?” Kagami asks breathlessly against Akashi’s lips, after the first time he tries to grab Akashi’s ass and their positions prevent it. For the moment, he settles for shoving Akashi up against the nearest wall, going after the taste of his mouth, searching for that elusive taste he loves so much. “If you’re still too shaky, it’s okay.”

 

The nip of Akashi's teeth is probably too hard after hearing that, but his tongue is quick to soothe, and his fingers quicker to yank on Kagami's hair and keep him close when Akashi feels like kissing him until they're both out of breath. " _You're_ making me shaky," he breathes, tongue swiping over his own lower lip before he lunges in for another kiss. "You can dunk me again, that was cute. No consequences this time, even." 

 

“Pretty sure that was a three-pointer, not a dunk.” But if Akashi wants to be cute, then, well, so be it.

 

Kagami hoists Akashi up farther, then decides to take him entirely at his word. He abandons the cleaning of his apartment for now, opting instead to fire up his leg muscles, hurling both of them through the bedroom door. He whacks slightly against the leg of his desk, grunting in pain as they collapse onto the bed. “That was a better idea in theory,” he groans, massaging his knee. “This is why humans don’t move like that.”

 

"Don't _injure_ yourself," Akashi groans, gingerly shoving Kagami off of him. Go figure, big, tall boys are _heavy_ when their full weight lands on someone. Nice, only in theory or in the moment. "You're not human when you jump, you're Michael Jordan, and as far as I know, Americans think he's an alien." 

 

“...I’m feeling like you weren’t really paying attention to Space Jam.”

 

"I…was not paying attention to Space Jam, you are correct." 

 

“Okay, so Patrick Ewing, Larry Johnson, Charles Barkley, Muggsy Bogues, and Shawn Bradley all get their basketball talent stolen by these aliens called the Nerdlucks, who start calling themselves the Monstars--English pun on monsters and all-stars--and to save the world, Bugs Bunny kidnaps Michael Jordan, who gets squashed into a basketball--”

 

Akashi succinctly puts an end to that with a hand clamped over Kagami's mouth. "Taiga. Focus."

 

“Sorry. I just really like Space Jam.” But more important is Akashi, so Space Jam (for once) can wait. He rolls on top of Akashi, holding him down to the bed with strong arms that don’t need to work very hard as he gives kiss after kiss, tilting his head to avoid bumping noses, feeling heat creep up between them.

 

Promising that he'll actually watch it later and pay attention seems unnecessary at the moment. Far better is arching up with a breathless, pleased noise, and kissing Kagami until every brush of their lips is sticky and wet and his skin burns from every rush of heated breath. "How are you _so_ warm," Akashi mutters, twisting to grab at Kagami's shirt, _pretty sure_ that he needs to be shirtless. Bodies like that at least need to be shirtless, new law.

 

Kagami twists down, letting Akashi pull his shirt off, sighing out a breath when his skin is free to rub slowly up against Akashi’s. “Pretty sure my body is just kinda meant to be naked. I’m usually too hot.” 

 

His mind stumbles over some joke (?) about red hair and fire, then gives up in exchange for fumbling at the front of Akashi’s pants. “You feeling up for some stuff today?”

 

"I'm in your bed, I'm up for anything." Letting one hand's fingers drag their way down Kagami's chest is entirely necessary, especially when he can feel every dip and groove of muscle. Akashi shivers hard, grabbing at one of Kagami's belt loops, refusing to let him pull any distance away. "You might die in Kyoto. It's terrible in the summer, so just be naked all the time." _Logically_.

 

“If I could handle L.A., I can handle Kyoto,” Kagami assures him, shuddering when Akashi touches his chest--which is both inconvenient and humiliating. He twists his hand, getting it under Akashi’s waistband, and hisses out a breath between his teeth when he wraps around Akashi’s hardening cock, catching him for another kiss. “Mmm...what do you want today? Thoughts?”

 

Breath leaves Akashi's lungs in a hitching rush as he arches up unabashedly into that touch. Damn it, _always_ straight to his dick. "I…yes." The wry twist of his mouth is hidden against Kagami's neck when he buries his face there, his teeth nipping into taut skin, feeling the thud of Kagami's pulse underneath his lips. "But you can say no, just so you-- _Taiga_ , how many times do I have to tell you, if you touch it too much, I'm _going_ to come in like, five seconds." 

 

Kagami sighs, pulling his hand out of Akashi’s pants, still tingling and warm from being (briefly) wrapped around a man’s cock. “Don’t see the _point_ of you always trying to get my hand _off_ your dick, but sure, fine. You know I probably won’t say no.” When it comes to Akashi, especially Akashi and sex, there’s very little he’d say no to.

 

"I've explained this before, I like to _last_ , and your hands feel good," Akashi defensively retorts. He busies himself with his tie, which is already somewhat mussed and haphazard, and tugs it off in short order, tossing it off of the bed. "I want you to fuck me without a condom." Too soon? Gross? Unsure, but whatever the case, not stumbling over the words or anything like it deserves praise, especially when thinking about it makes him shift and squirm. 

 

Years of stupid sex ed and D.A.R.E. programing makes Kagami immediately suck in a breath reflexively. He leans back on his knees, nibbling at his bottom lip as he thinks. “I know _you_ were a virgin when we hooked up, but I wasn’t,” he says hesitantly, half to Akashi and half to the part of his brain currently screaming at him to shut up and enjoy it. “I mean, I don’t think I have anything, but Kuroko was nailing Aomine, so...”

 

"Aomine uses condoms with everyone except Kuroko, and Kuroko is selective," Akashi supplies in short order……because he might have asked, whoops. His shirt is gone as he fumbles with the buttons, shrugging it off before he wavers, then reaches in again, hooking a finger around the chain dangling from Kagami's neck and tugging him back in. "You don't have to," he quietly adds. "If it's a bad idea, it's a bad idea." 

 

Kagami closes a hand around Akashi’s, squeezing gently as he crawls back on top. “It’s kinda wild,” he admits with a slow grin, “but I don’t hate the reckless side of you.”

 

He yanks off whatever’s left of Akashi’s pants and underpants, tossing everything over his shoulder before shedding his own in short order. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna make it really good, okay?”

 

"I'm not _worried_ , I'm the one suggesting it," Akashi sniffs, no matter how obviously pleased he is with himself. His hands splay over Kagami's back, feeling the easy, smooth flex of muscle every single time Kagami as much as shifts, and he arches up to get his mouth on Kagami's throat, nipping gently. "I want to know what it feels like-- _especially_ because it's you." 

 

As far as Kagami is concerned, that’s the end of his attempts to be a good guy about this. He shifts down, covering Akashi’s body with his own, guiding those slender legs to wrap around his waist. “You know, if you say that kind of thing to a guy, he’s _gonna_ do whatever you say,” he murmurs, grabbing the lube from where he’d stuffed it under his pillow earlier that day, knowing Akashi would be coming over. “At least, I will. You okay like this, or do you need to turn over?”

 

"Isn't that the point?" Akashi's next bite is less gentle, right into the crook of Kagami's neck and far more enthusiastic about drawing it out to leave a bruise already rapidly forming. "I like that I can just suggest something and you do it," he mutters, getting his teeth on Kagami's ear next and squeezing his thighs against Kagami's waist. "This way is fine, just put me where you want me." 

 

Kagami’s first squeeze of the bottle of lube is too strong, and he grimaces, attempting to squeeze the excess back into the bottle. “Sorry. Got excited. You just...you feel really good all the time. This is gonna be even better.”

 

At least, as long as he doesn’t get overexcited and make like the bottle of lube, spilling all of his contents before he gets a chance to use them. Kagami reaches down, circling a couple of slippery fingers around that tight hole, swallowing hard. “Let me know when you’re ready, okay?” he breathes, and slides a couple in deep, watching Akashi’s face change.

 

Akashi makes a concentrated effort not to claw holes into Kagami's shoulders, and manages, with increasing difficulty. By now, Kagami knows not to make him wait, which is very, very nice--but at the same time, there's enough lingering tension from earlier that this is less mind over matter, more _focus so you don't lose your mind immediately, you complete idiot._

 

Kagami's fingers feel as good as always, and Akashi shivers hard as he squirms down, far from shy about the way he squeezes his legs tight about Kagami's waist and uses that as leverage to grind slowly against his hand. "I'm thinking too much about how you're going to feel in me," he breathes, his eyes lidding. "It'll be even nicer to remember, on the train tomorrow."

 

Kagami leans down, capturing Akashi’s lips in a swift sweet kiss, nibbling at his bottom lip as he twists his fingers slowly. Akashi makes the best faces he’s ever seen, writhing and squirming on his hand, and that probably encourages him to add another finger a bit too fast, which is fine. “Someday,” he promises, curling them and rubbing in eager circles, “it might be fun to get you off just like this, so I can watch all the faces you make without getting distracted.”

 

Akashi's breath hiccups against Kagami's mouth, and he lunges up into a sloppy kiss to stifle the incriminatingly breathless, eager noise that escapes. "Y-You might--ah--want to do that or I'm gonna come the second you put your dick in," he admits.. One of his legs slips down Kagami's sides, his toes curling as he digs his foot into the bed, making it that much easier to just ride down against that hand. "Or if you want to watch that--that's fine, too," Akashi offers up on a ragged laugh.

 

Kagami’s eyes light up, and he leans back a little, twisting his hand and spreading his fingers, trying to loosen Akashi up enough that he at least won’t be hurting him. “That...sounds pretty good,” he admits, and curls his fingers again, glad he’d trimmed his nails earlier just in case, in what’s becoming a Saturday morning ritual for him as of late. “I like it when you enjoy yourself.”

 

His other hand slides up one pale thigh, wrapping firmly around Akashi’s thick cock, stroking as he rocks his hand in. He licks his lips, imagining sliding his mouth over the flushed head, but no, he wants to _watch_ this time, and he can always suck Akashi off later.

 

Reflex makes Akashi reach out and grab at Kagami's hand to still the touch on his cock--but Akashi just ends up grabbing helplessly at his arm instead, his breath hiccuping wildly when those fingers inside of him press _too_ right for his mind to process. His heels dig into the bed, every twitch and shudder drawn out that much longer when he grinds himself down, and it's a _relief_ to feel how that delicious, aching press makes him feel more boneless by the minute. 

 

His cock leaks over Kagami's fingers, dripping onto his stomach with every stroke. _That's_ just not fair--feeling every one of Kagami's callouses, the perfect squeeze of his palm, the way it makes his chest heave and pulse thunder in his ears--"Fuck," Akashi gasps, his back arching hard, the next, _perfect_ shove of Kagami's fingers inside of him pushing him over the edge in short order, and the wave of dissolving, trembling nerves that follows is enough to leave him lightheaded, sinking down into the bed. 

 

Kagami’s voice is hoarse with hunger when he manages to talk, after watching that. “God. You look so good.”

 

His cock is achingly hard, and he reaches a hand down to squeeze it, slowly sliding the other out of Akashi’s twitching, slick hole. “If you need to wait, I can finish this off,” he offers, trying not to sound disappointed at all, and succeeding for the most part. “Watching you like that...god.”

 

"No--gimme," is the muttered, kind of languidly slurred response that Kagami gets for that suggestion, complete with one of Akashi's hands grabbing and pawing their way down to Kagami's cock. Just feeling how hard he is makes Akashi's breath hiccup again, which does _wonders_ for the lingering orgasm that keeps making his muscles jump and tremble. "In me, now. I think I'm s…still coming, kind of, so--"

 

A better man than Kagami might be able to refuse that order. Kagami is not that man. “If it’s too much for you, just tell me,” he warns, sliding up between Akashi’s thighs, feeling the broad head of his cock slide against the slick heat there. “I can stop or pull out, I don’t mind.” Just the idea of being inside without a condom makes his breath catch, and he has just enough presence of mind to brush a kiss against one strong shoulder before pushing in, groaning aloud to himself as the sudden tight heat sears pleasure through his body.

 

Kagami's fingers are one thing, his cock another--another that is _very good_ at making Akashi's body shudder with the sharp, inhale of breath that follows that first, hard thrust inside. It's much more, deliciously so, but it's shockingly easy to just wriggle down onto that thick cock when his body is already caught up in the idea of _more more more_. 

 

No condom means heat and skin and stickiness to another level, and Akashi swallows hard, grabbing at Kagami's back, his legs shaking too hard to really get them around his waist properly, and so he gives up with a groan, sagging down into the sheets as he ruts down mindlessly. "Don't you _dare_ stop--"

 

“Couldn’t if I tried.” 

 

Kagami’s voice comes out as a breathless, broken groan as he shoves in, toes digging into the bed for purchase to help him rut in harder. _Doing it without a condom was a bad idea,_ he thinks wildly, feeling sparks of pleasure drag up his cock, hot and slick and wet inside Akashi, feeling _closer_ than he ever has to another person. This is a bad idea, because he’s going to come embarrassingly fast, because he’s never going to want to wear one again, because he’s falling stupidly in love with one Akashi Seijuurou and now it feels like there’s no way to stop it--

 

“Grab onto me,” he orders, and slams in hard, touching skin on skin and nothing in between.

 

Akashi's voice breaks on a breathless, needy sound, and he's pretty sure he nods at some point, his hands scrabbling for purchase, clinging to Kagami's shoulders briefly before his arms wrap around his neck. " _Taiga_ ," he whispers, bites his lip when his voice cracks on another whine because every overstimulated muscle won't stop reminding him of how _good_ this feels. 

 

Shutting up doesn't really happen when their skin slaps together perfectly and arching off the bed is more a reflex than anything else, savoring the aching stretch of Kagami's cock, in him thick and deep and dripping. Just thinking about it is enough to make Akashi's chest heave, his thighs tremble, abdominal muscles flexing and hollowing out when he squeezes down around Kagami. _So this is how I die,_ is the gleefully dazed thought Akashi has, his fingers clawing into Kagami's shoulder blades. 

 

A nice guy, Kagami thinks dimly, in as much as he can still think at all, would ask if Akashi is still sure, if he wants him to finish inside or pull out. A guy like that could probably even _think_ about making words right now, when all Kagami can do is groan breathlessly, panting harshly with every hard thrust in, unable to do anything but keep taking Akashi hard and fast.

 

He hears his own voice getting higher, and can’t be bothered to stop it, not when he’s teetering on a knife’s edge of pleasure and urgency, rocking in with ever more hunger, more desire to _take_ , to _fill_ , to _own_. He strangles out a breathless shout that sounds like Akashi’s name, and loses himself, movements erratic and savage as he spills, fucking his release into Akashi with every rough thrust.

 

Akashi's groan escapes through his teeth when he _feels_ the first hot, slick spill inside of him, with everything else after that enough to make his eyes glaze and flutter mostly closed. His heels dig into the bed, his legs shaking so hard that it's almost impossible to grind down properly onto Kagami's cock, milking that orgasm for all that it's worth, breath hiccuping and catching and entirely breathless at the edges. 

 

 _Kagami Taiga just came inside of me, and he is_ not _allowed to do it any other way again._  

 

That's probably not a normal thought to have, but is sex this good normal? Probably not, people are missing out, and having at least a dozen shudders rake down his spine to resemble miniature orgasms makes Akashi drag his hands down to Kagami's ass and sink his fingers into the hard muscle to keep him _right_ where he is. 

 

Kagami hears himself let out a high-pitched whine, and buries his head in the pillow to cover it up, effectively smothering himself and Akashi while he comes down from what can only be called a high. One of his hands paws at Akashi’s shoulder, fumbling around until it pats at his cheek. “Perfect,” he grunts, and half passes out, slumping down bonelessly. “Sorry. Move me.”

 

"Nope, stay there," Akashi mumbles, butting his face into Kagami's shoulder before sagging down uselessly into the bed. What _are_ the pros and cons of making Kagami move, really? He could die like this, he could. "You're _so_ good. How." 

 

“Love you.” Kagami says it into the pillow, using it to muffle the last bits of his hesitant embarrassment.

 

It takes a second to process that, admittedly, and Akashi stifles a soft laugh, pleased that he at least doesn't have the option to start catapulting off the bed _this_ time. Somehow, Skype is a dozen times more embarrassing. "Mm. Is that how you're so good?" he languidly asks, dragging a hand up Kagami's back. "Or why?" 

 

“Dunno. Might be independent.” Kagami manages to flop his head to the side, enough to press a clumsy kiss to the top of Akashi’s ear. “It’s a hopeless case anyway. I’m done for.”

 

"I could hate that more." Akashi fumbles to grab Kagami's face, hauling him in for a proper kiss that's not entirely on point, but oh well. They're both pretty useless at this point. Now isn't the time for a thinly veiled reference that he'd get bored explaining, so it's a lot easier to just murmur, no matter how awkward and embarrassed it makes him feel to _say it outright_ , "I love you, too."

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Kyoto’s main station platform isn’t especially crowded at eight in the morning, at least not on the passenger side of the tracks. The commuter side is far more packed, with people rushing to jobs far from their families, but before others start disembarking from Nagoya and Tokyo. That’s why Mibuchi Reo is here early--because Akashi is charmingly spacey when it comes to concrete concepts like _time_ , and Reo doesn’t want to chance waking him or interrupting him in the middle of student council to ask exactly when Kagami Taiga is supposed to arrive. 

 

 _“Escort him, please? He’s never been to Kyoto, I don’t want him to get lost.”_ How could Mibuchi say no to such a precious, quiet, gentle request? Of course, he couldn’t. He’s never been able to refuse Akashi much.

 

A familiar profile catches his eye, and Mibuchi raises one eyebrow. Well. Maybe the wait for a hulking redhead won’t be as boring as he’d expected. “I~ spy~ one of my old favorites,” he says in a singsong, strolling over to the empty end of the platform where one Himuro Tatsuya stands. “I _never_ forget a pretty shooting guard.”

 

Himuro Tatsuya has had a number of decent plans in his life, and he was fairly certain this was one of them until this exact moment. 

 

_Oh, no._

 

Maybe he shouldn't have left quite so early, and have stuck to a more amicable time that he could have brought Murasakibara along with. He's already going to be upset that he went to Kyoto without him, and now, Himuro is really starting to hate that he doesn't have some form of backup, no matter how complicated that would have gotten. 

 

The Rakuzan uniform is unmistakable, and so is the height, and that face, and Himuro begrudgingly remembers the way that Mibuchi Reo moves all too well. How unfortunate. He stuffs his hands down into his coat--worn for the sake of fashion at this point, not the chill, because Kyoto's air is _very_ pleasant in comparison to Akita. "Mibuchi-san, wasn't it?" he lightly greets, keeping a smile on his face for now. "Are you the errand runner today?" 

 

Mibuchi beams--it’s so pleasant to find someone as good at elegant small talk and sly smiles as he is himself--and nods a faint bow, leaning back against a pole. “I’m here to pick up a delivery, as it were. Ah, Himuro-san, so fashionable,” he sighs. “That coat suits your frame so well, even if it does look a little silly in this heat. Are you feeling better than the last time we met?”

 

 _A delivery_. Nice. Glad to know that Kagami is a _delivery_ , and that he came here for a good reason. "It's not so warm here that I feel the need to strip just yet," Himuro answers without batting an eye. "And I'm feeling just fine, thank you. I guess if you're here to pick up a delivery, then I'm here to make sure that it stays safe and sound." 

 

“So abrupt!” Mibuchi flutters his eyelashes, amused at the parry. “I understand that they have long-distance tracking updates via phone now--or are you that fearful of mishandling? I doubt the recipient will want to dine with the postman.”

 

"Usually, fragile deliveries aren't handled properly," Himuro dryly retorts, leaning back against the nearest wall to avoid a stream of businesswomen hurrying across the platform. "And that's why it's the job of people like me to keep an eye out for them--especially when recipients aren't known for being especially _careful_. It says a lot when they can't even be bothered to pick up their deliveries themselves."

 

“There’s a reason postmen exist,” Mibuchi says sweetly. “Scheduled deliveries are as old as time itself. And from what I’ve heard, certain parcels aren’t nearly as delicate as all that.” 

 

He waits until the cheerful platform music stops and the doors of the train close, then drops his voice as they’re alone again. “Does he know you’re here?”

 

"I thought it would be a nice surprise." Actually, Himuro has no idea how Kagami is going to react, but it can't be terribly bad if Kagami called _him_ the other night. "I thought about bringing Atsushi, but, hm…maybe that would have caused too much of a scene?"

 

“Mm, he causes a scene no matter where he goes, doesn’t he? Ah, well, Sei-chan is ever so fond of him. Makes me wonder what other talents he’s hiding that make him so...amenable.” He flutters his lashes, amused. “I did think that I’d see you again someday, but I didn’t know it would be here.”

 

"Really? Because this is all seeming to be incredibly inevitable to me," Himuro murmurs, making a gallant attempt not to be rubbed the wrong way by every other word. In another set of circumstances, maybe they'd get along…maybe. But not here. 

 

Still--he'd be an idiot not to make the best of picking Mibuchi's brain, and so he sighs, his shoulders heaving in a shrug. "I debated about whether to come or not, but in the end, it seemed right. Taiga's an idiot. Do me a favor and tell me straight up--do you think he's just being jerked around? Rakuzan's not the kind of school he can get into, and Kyoto's not the kind of place he'd want to live."

 

“He’ll get in.” Mibuchi is confident, not dismissive. “He’s been working hard, and Sei-chan is a very good teacher. Why wouldn’t he like Kyoto? I thought he was all about cooking and surfing and basketball, and we’re a heck of a lot more relaxed than the busybodies up in Tokyo.” He might slip just a _tiny_ bit into an elegant instance of Kyoto-ben, just for Himuro’s sake.

 

Himuro eyes him warily, annoyed that it's a convincing argument. Fortunately, he's not done yet. "And if he _doesn't_ get in, what then? Is your Sei-chan going to drop him because he's not meeting expectations, or is that planned for accordingly, too?" 

 

Mibuchi sighs, folding his hands in front of him. “I’m sorry you don’t have any confidence that Kagami-san has worked to improve himself, but I’m sure he’ll be fine. I had my doubts about them too at first, of course. But..ah, maybe I’m a soft touch, but when I hear the L-word being thrown around I just get so passionate about helping it work out.”

 

Himuro tries not to let his eyes roll out of his skull. "Taiga throws around the 'L-word' with everyone," he bluntly says, barely avoiding air quotes in his aggravation. "Also, listen to the question. Maybe you're passionate, but I'm actually trying to look out for someone here." 

 

“Ah, he’s a love-slut?” Mibuchi’s laugh is tinkling as he leans back. “Ah, well. I’ll have to be there to pick up the pieces when he moves on again, then.” He looks up through long lashes, murmuring, “Of course there’s a plan. There always is, with Sei-chan.”

 

"If that's the case, then you can tell me if you really think this is…viable. Whatever they are. Or if it's just another scheme, because I'm _not_ going to let Taiga sign onto that." There are a number of things Himuro has considered doing to keep this from continuing, and he's fairly certain he would only be ashamed of half of them, and even then, only for a few moments. "I could understand if this were just a basketball thing, but it's not, and he's already gotten burned by one of Akashi's old friends. I'm not interested in seeing it happen again." 

 

Mibuchi’s eyes flash open, just a hint of that dangerous demonic greed that he lets show during games. “What’s your alternative here?” he asks, far more curious than affronted. “You’ll force him to stay on a team with his ex and the man his ex dropped him for? You’ll rescue him up to your barely-best-8 team up in Akita, in the snow? You’ll comfort him all gentle and loving in a way that a big brother really shouldn’t?”

 

"I'll get his ass back to L.A., more like." Himuro's expression doesn't change. "Ragging on the big bro card only works, by the way, if you aren't so into the _onee-sama_ persona yourself. Did _he_ call you Reo-nee?" 

 

“He _did_ ,” Mibuchi confirms gleefully. “Of course, I felt our bond was too pure to sully with anything _truly_ lecherous. Like a blow job.”

 

"Right, right. So instead you just left him hanging and didn't let him have an ounce of what he wanted?" Himuro sweetly retorts. "At least I'm nice enough to let him get it out of his system." 

 

“And that worked _so_ well, didn’t it? Which is why he isn’t hung up on you at all?”

 

"If he was hung up on me, he wouldn't be moving down to Kyoto to chase some weird rich kid that wants a new toy." Himuro's eyes lid. "And even if he is hung up on me--well, at this point, that can only be used for the right reasons." 

 

“So you’re willing to say he isn’t when it suits your noble purposes,” Mibuchi remarks softly, “then in the same breath, say that you’ll use it to your own ends. You’re a fascinatingly slippery specimen, aren’t you?”

 

"This isn't about me at all, you know."

 

“You’re the one who _inserted_ yourself, my darling.”

 

"No, I'm the only one that's on _Taiga's side_. Everyone else seems to be a damned apologist for _your_ captain and I'm not buying it." 

 

“Ah, so you’re here exclusively on his behalf,” Mibuchi says softly. “That is a relief. I’m not sure who this _everyone else_ is that you’re talking about, but I will freely admit that as far as I’m concerned, two men in love have an almost equal ability to hurt each other--and of both of them, dear Taiga isn’t the one with a fragile mental state spawned from years of abuse, is he?”

 

Himuro levels a stare at him. "You can tell me he's fragile when he doesn't have the ability to scare a six foot te--uh, two hundred something centimeter tall guy away from a game and make him not want to come out of his room for a weekend." _He_ had dealt with that, and he never wants to again.

 

“Dangerous and fragile are not mutually exclusive, my dear.” There’s a soft tone of admonishment in Mibuchi’s voice, and he drifts closer. “Like an icicle. Or is that you, from your name? Are you the dragon of ice to his fire, and don’t want to lose that?”

 

"I'm going to tell you one more time that this isn't about me." Are his feathers ruffled now? Indefinitely, probably, the longer he tries to have a constructive conversation around Mibuchi Reo. A muscle in Himuro's jaw twitches as he tries not to grind his teeth, but does so anyway. "The last thing I want is for him to come down here, hate it, and not have a way out," he quietly, levelly says. "Because your captain has a reputation for making everyone around him sign a damned blood oath to be loyal to him, and I don't like that very much. If they break up, it's not going to be any better than Taiga staying at Seirin. It's going to be worse. For _everyone_ involved." 

 

Mibuchi sighs. “You’re so _gloomy_ , has anyone told you that? Whoever’s job it is to put a dick in you obviously isn’t doing it right. Sei-chan isn’t trying to _hurt_ the boy. If he did, the rest of us wouldn’t stand for it, let me tell you that. And you’re being overdramatic--people with money always have a way out.”

 

"It's really rude to assume things about people like that, you know," Himuro flatly snaps, the last bit of sugar he has in him dissipating in short order. "Aren't people from Kyoto supposed to be better about that?" 

 

“No. We’re supposed to be politer about not saying it.” Mibuchi smiles, eyes closed to slits. “I’m still _so_ new here, I’m afraid.”

 

"You're going to be a third year, nice try." Himuro averts his gaze, staring up at the high ceilings with a slow exhale. "I'm talking about him having an emotional out, by the way. This isn't just about Taiga being able to get on a train and leave." 

 

“Are you going to do this his whole life?” Mibuchi asks. “Showing up on the doorstep of every boyfriend he has--I assume he’s one of those constitutionally incapable of finding a woman--and demanding that they treat him right? How long until you drive away everyone who cares about him--or is that the goal? To leave him alone and dependent on only you, my sweet?”

 

"If he keeps dating people that are crazy, yeah, I'm probably going to keep doing that." Himuro's smile is wry. "At least he knows what to expect from me. Seems a lot easier for him to deal with." 

 

“Or he just tells you that to make you feel important.” Mibuchi shuts his mouth, then takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “My, you’ve really gotten to some of my buttons, haven’t you? You must tell me your secrets, I’m usually far more pleasantly reserved and charming.”

 

"Likewise." Thank god he's not the only one at the end of his rope. Himuro shuts his eyes briefly. "Let's try this again. I think we're both here for the same reasons, even if you're an assigned errand boy and I'm here unannounced." 

 

“I just want to make sure he doesn’t get lost on his way to see his silly boyfriend,” Mibuchi says with a sigh. “Hi. I’m Mibuchi Reo. Pleased to officially meet you.”

 

"I just want to make sure that he doesn't end up hating himself at the end of the day," Himuro says wearily. "Himuro Tatsuya. Your games are a pleasure to watch." Alex always used to talk about compliment sandwiches. Well, managing at least one damn slice of bread is good enough.

 

“You didn’t seem to like playing me, though.” Mibuchi flutters his eyelashes--if Himuro wants to insist that the conversation about Kagami isn’t about him, well, he can always make it a conversation about Himuro. “Though...hmm, I must say, you bore it much better than that adorable little point guard from Shuutoku, or that brute captain from Seirin, hmph.”

 

"Who would? No one likes losing." Himuro huffs, glancing up at the nearest clock again. "Also, your kind of play is predictable after awhile. There's no point in getting flustered about it-- _or_ by your teasing. That's what you want, and I don't like giving guys like you what they want." 

 

“Hmm? Ah, I was wrong, then. You seem to me like the kind of guy who loves giving men what they want.”

 

It’s a light, airy tease, but Mibuchi’s eyes widen slightly, and he purses his lips. “Then again...you...you don’t, do you? I’ve been trying to figure out why you’re so frustrating to me. You don’t get riled up by the normal kinds of things.”

 

They were _supposed_ to be trying this 'get along and play nice' thing, but Himuro can't resist a good jab. "It really bothers you, doesn't it? Not being entirely in control of a conversation. Good to know." 

 

“I’m trying to make sure I’m not letting someone super weird hang around Sei-chan.” Mibuchi stares at Himuro, inquisitive and without letting up, trying to make sense of that heavy-lidded stare. “What are you into?”

 

"Well, I'm trying to make sure I'm not letting someone super crazy hang around Taiga--which applies to your whole team, apparently," Himuro retorts without skipping a beat, and stares back at him, exasperated. "What do you mean, 'what am I into'?"

 

“Boys, girls, balloons? I’m having trouble figuring you out, Himuro Tatsuya--ahh, that’s a nice name, by the way. Rather rolls off the tongue. Fabulous rhythm.” Mibuchi taps his fingers against one hip. “Have you ever done your name and birthday numerology?”

 

"Huh? No." Himuro takes a second to process all of this--is he being flirted with, or quizzed? he's not _entirely_ sure--and he settles for just assuming this is some weird Kyoto-based _thing_ , or something like it. "What do you care what I'm into? I don't date." 

 

“Ah.” The word is soft, full of sudden comprehension. “What a shame for the world at large. I daresay there are support groups for those left in your wake by now.”

 

There are at least a dozen responses that Himuro expected, and that's not one of them. Disbelieving laughter is usually the first, a few more pickup lines the next. He tries not to glare at Mibuchi on principle, because that's how these conversations _go_. "…If this is you trying to pick me up, it's kind of a weird tactic, don't you think?" 

 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Mibuchi flutters his eyelashes as a bullet train approaches, gliding forward on electromagnetic currents. “If I want to pick someone up, I don’t need to try tactics. I rarely have to try at all.”

 

"Really." Himuro smiles at him, perhaps too brightly. "Then this must be _really_ annoying for you and your spotless record, huh?"

 

Mibuchi arches an eyebrow. How obnoxious. He hadn’t been interested before, but that cocky, almost snotty confidence... He sighs. “Arrogance is one of the worst turn-ons to have, you know,” he complains. “It’s a very hard life for a girl like me.”

 

"Uh huh." Actually, Himuro is more than furious that he's now _entertained_. Damn it, he has no one to blame but himself at this point. "So is saying things like that, I'd wager." 

 

“You _do_ seem like a betting man,” Mibuchi muses. “Say, do you think this is Taiga’s train? It almost seems like a waste to stop talking so soon.”

 

"What were you going to suggest that we keep talking about?" After just this long of a conversation, Himuro is very convinced that he needs a cigarette, and regrets that smoking on train platforms isn't something that he can do. Instead of addressing that, he tugs out his phone.

 

**To: Taiga**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: yo**

**you in kyoto yet?**

 

Best way to check, easiest way to surprise him. Hopefully, it will end in good reactions only.

 

**To: Tatsuya**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: ya**

**train is getting in soon. is it bad that im so excited lolol**

 

“Are you always that fidgety?” Mibuchi asks, delighted. “It’s like you’ve got ants in those low-riding designer jeans of yours.”

 

**To: Taiga**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: what time?**

**i wanna be able to wish you good luck. it's not bad you're excited, just take it easy.**

 

"How do _you_ know they're designer?" Himuro grouses, not looking up from his phone. "I'm not fidgeting. Talking to you just makes me need half a pack of cigarettes, that's all." Mibuchi can decide for himself if that's a compliment or an insult, whatever.

 

Mibuchi only beams. “Imagine what sex with me would make you crave, darling.”

 

_“Kyoto station, please depart the train. Thank you for riding with us today.”_

 

Kagami is one of the last out of his car, and trips over a bump in the platform at the sight of Himuro. “Tatsuya?” he asks in disbelief, hurrying over as soon as he gets his balance back. “What the hell are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

 

Himuro had a _few_ really smooth greetings planned out for this occasion, but when his mind is still obnoxiously caught up on what Mibuchi just said--what the fuck, _what the fuck,_ why is that a turn on and why is it happening _now_ \--he stumbles his way through snapping his mouth shut and shoving his phone back down into his pocket. "Everything's _fine,_ " he grinds out. "I'm here to meet you, Taiga, _obviously._ "

 

“As am I.” Mibuchi smiles sweetly, entirely pleased at himself for flustering Himuro so perfectly with the best timing. “On behalf of Sei-chan, of course.”

 

Kagami starts, nearly tripping again when he sees Mibuchi unexpectedly close. “Oh, hi! I didn’t...” He looks between Himuro and Mibuchi, picking up on a weird tension. “Am I...interrupting something?”

 

“No!” is the resounding chorus in unison, and Kagami blinks. “Oh. Okay. Sure.”

 

"I'm here to make sure you keep a good head on your shoulders while you're down here," Himuro firmly says, pointedly _not_ looking at Mibuchi any longer, because fuck that. "As if I'd let you go something this big alone, after all that you've told me." 

 

“This is weird,” Kagami mutters under his breath, and tugs his bag up onto his shoulder. “Whatever. Is Akashi busy or something?”

 

“Emergency student council meeting,” Mibuchi says breezily, leading the way out of the station. “He’ll be off soon. The rest of us wanted to give you a little welcome in the mean time!”

 

Himuro _does_ seriously hope that doesn't mean _the rest of Rakuzan's team_ , because he's not sure how much more of Rakuzan he can take. At least from Yosen's match against them, he can remember that they're not all like Mibuchi……..who has legs that are nice and long and _shoulders_ that the Rakuzan uniform only accentuates--

 

_No. NO._

 

Focus on something else. Kagami. "Is that really the kind of greeting you're going to give me?" he dryly prods, only sheer will keeping him from lapsing into English. "I came all the way down here to make sure that you're okay." 

 

“You want a kiss with tongue or something?” Kagami teases, punching Himuro in the shoulder. “Who asked you to do that, huh? I can take care of myself.” It’s going to be _awkward_ to see Akashi with Himuro next to him, policing both of them, being aggressively brothery...as he apparently wants to do right now.

 

“It’s not easy to see a little brother growing up and finding true love, is it?” Mibuchi sighs, easily setting a quick pace out of the station, knowing Kagami will keep up without trouble.

 

Himuro's lips purse, and the glare he briefly sets upon Mibuchi's back is ice cold. "True love my ass," he mutters, casting a stare up at Kagami through his lashes. "Alex told me you called her the other night," he adds, _now_ switching into English, because it's inevitable, with this conversation. "Friends with dad trouble, huh?" 

 

Kagami shoots him a look, shoving his hands in his pockets as he strides after Mibuchi, watching the station crowds hustle out of the way of three tall muscular men moving very quickly. That _is_ rather convenient at times, he has to admit. “What the hell, she told me she wouldn’t tell you. That shit is personal.”

 

Mibuchi casts a withering look behind. “At least speak clearly and slowly,” he complains.

 

Himuro meets Mibuchi's stare dead on, and says, with a sweet smile, " _No_ " before turning right back to Kagami. "She was worried about you, especially after I mentioned you were trying to move to Kyoto. So what happened that you had to call her up and not me?" 

 

“She’s a _grown-up_ , man.” Kagami shrugs. “She knows stuff about, like, the law. I dunno, it got really weird for a while, and I thought I was gonna need a fake passport or something, I don’t want you to get involved in junk like that.”

 

Mibuchi huffs, understanding about 10% of the conversation at a guess, catching the words “man,” “weird,” and “evolved,” and deciding that they’re talking about science class.

 

"Alex doesn't know a damned thing about _Japanese_ law," Himuro reminds him, exasperated. It's not like he does, either, but the point stands. "I'm gonna go off on a limb and assume that his dad ruined some of your fun time--really nice, you can't even tell me that you came within ten inches of getting arrested? And _still_ decided to come down to Kyoto?"

 

“I didn’t get _arrested_ , I didn’t even get close. Dude, I didn’t even _see_ his dad or a cop--some shit went down with Akashi and one of his other friends, and I thought it might be better to kidnap the shit out of him for a minute, until I got my brain back,” Kagami says, exasperated. 

 

Mibuchi picks up the word _Akashi_ , and literally nothing else. “I hope you two are speaking in slang,” he says wistfully, “or my mother is going to fire my English tutor.”

 

Himuro ignores Mibuchi, no matter how annoyingly shiny and pretty his hair is in Kyoto's sunlight. "You're an idiot, Taiga," he bluntly says. "I don't care if it was just a fleeting thought; the fact that you _seriously_ fucking thought it would be smart to kidnap some guy you've dated for a _month_ is nuts. Do you think all that drama's gonna go away when you move down here?"

 

“I think it’ll be a hell of a lot easier to keep an eye on him,” Kagami points out, hardly noticing when the buildings grow shower, more spaced out, and the trees start to take over. “I think he’s more comfortable in his routine, and literally _nothing_ bad happened, so he can totally take care of himself around his dad, despite like, _everyone_ telling me he can’t!”

 

"He's a nutcase. You're in love with a nutcase. No," Himuro corrects himself, "you're in love with everyone. That's why this is so ridiculous." 

 

“I am not in love with everyone! What does that even mean?” Kagami demands. “Just because you’re all cool and aloof with this whole, ‘No, I can’t be with you, I can’t be with _anyone_ , I’m better off alone--’ You’re like some kind of hermit villain!”

 

"Why are you bringing me into this? No, you know what, fine. If I kissed you right now and begged you to come to Akita because I needed you there, would you consider it?" 

 

 _They’re talking about dogs now,_ Mibuchi decides. _I heard ‘beg’ and ‘come’ and ‘Akita.’_

 

“W-what?” Kagami looks at Himuro, startled and flustered by the idea. It’s hard _not_ to remember how Himuro’s lips had felt on his some days, how his hands had felt so different than when they’d hugged or high-fived, combing gently through his hair. His face flushes, and after a long moment, he shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “I dunno what you mean.”

 

"Yes, you do. Don't play dumb, Taiga, it's not cute." Himuro's hands curl into fists into his pockets. "That's what I'm talking about when I say you're in love with everyone. You'd do this for anyone, this guy isn't anyone special, but he _is_ someone that's got the potential to really fuck your life up." 

 

“No one is fucking up my life!” Kagami rakes a hand back through his hair, annoyed with Himuro, more annoyed with himself. “I’ve had literally two boyfriends. And if you say he isn’t anyone special again, brother or not, I’m gonna start throwing punches.”

 

“Oh, boys,” Mibuchi interrupts, turning and gesturing elegantly at a huge set of gates, currently standing open. “Welcome to Rakuzan, invited guest and one other.”

 

Himuro exhales a long, annoyed sigh, glances around--mostly barren school grounds because of the timing, very nice, very convenient--and grabs Kagami roughly by the front of his shirt to haul him down into a kiss that's a whole lot of tongue and not much mercy. 

 

He releases him in the next moment, shoving Kagami back. "I'd fucking punch you, but you have an interview, I guess," he flatly says, switching to Japanese again. " _That_ should give you something to think about."

 

Kagami staggers backward, grabbing at one of the gates unconsciously, staring at Himuro with something trapped between confusion, heartbreak, and desperate hunger. His lips tingle, his breath coming in short hot pulses.

 

The moment feels frozen in time, until Mibuchi cheerfully grabs the back collar of Kagami’s light jacket, hauling him down the stone pathway. “That’s fine and fun, isn’t it? And now we’re just going to go to your interview until your brother stops being a creep with a point to prove. Doesn’t that sound nice, Kagami-kun?”

 

“Oi, I can walk on my own!”

 

“I’m sure you can, darling. Big Sister is just showing you the way. Being a deliveryman requires a certain detachment,” he throws over his shoulder at Himuro.

 

Himuro stares at Mibuchi's back, flips him off (goddamn Japanese people, do they even _get_ that gesture yet??), and stalks off down the street instead to _desperately_ make use of smoking a cigarette (or two). 

 

The halls of Rakuzan are wide and white and empty between classes, and it's only the luck of the draw that the student council's clubroom is not only on the way to the main offices, but also let out not three minutes prior to Mibuchi's delivery assistance. Akashi, nose in a book--less reading, more letting kana blur in his mind as he kills time--promptly glances up at the sound of approaching footsteps…and grumbling. "Oh, good. You found him, perfect timing." The book snaps shut as he straightens. "I'm sorry for not being able to meet you, Taiga." Is he misreading, or do they both look unnecessary flustered? Hm.

 

Kagami’s face relaxes into a relieved smile the second he sees Akashi, and he crosses the distance to him in three huge strides, cupping Akashi’s face in his hands and leaning down for a long-overdue kiss.

 

“I guess Big Sister is going to be closing the door!” Mibuchi says brightly, slipping out of the room a moment before the door shuts, with the soft heavy sound of a big man leaning back against it. 

 

“Sorry,” Kagami whispers, pulling back an inch or so. Odd, how even being this close to Akashi is enough to make his entire body thrum, like it’s syncing up with something atmospheric. “I just saw you and I had to. God, you smell good.”

 

"Ah…right," is the somewhat dazed response Akashi offers up, his book on the floor now and every nerve in his body unfairly tingling. If he had any sense, he'd chide Kagami on his carelessness, but having the heart for that right now when Kagami is being that charming… "Was your train all right?" he settles for instead, reaching up to lay a hand over Kagami's. "I hope Reo was polite, he usually is." 

 

“Yeah, he’s--I should probably apologize to him,” Kagami realizes, a little shamefaced. He hops up on the desk in front of Akashi, feet planted on either side of Akashi’s shoulders on his chair. “Tatsuya showed up, and we were kinda talking in English.”

 

Akashi's brow furrows as he stares up at him. "Tatsuya--wait. Himuro Tatsuya? Your friend, from Yosen? Is he still here? And…why?" 

 

“I dunno, he says he’s here to stop me from being dumb.” Kagami grins, and loops a finger in Akashi’s collar. “It’ll take more than that.”

 

"I wasn't going to scold you for indiscretions, but if you keep this up, I will," Akashi wryly shoots back, swatting Kagami's hand away. Himuro is just going to have to go on the back burner for now, especially if Kagami doesn't seem all _that_ fazed. "Your interview is…when? Thirty minutes from now? And then you have your entrance exams. You look like you just rolled off of a train, have you ever tied a tie in your life?" 

 

“Uh...not a straight down one like this,” Kagami admits. “Alex did it for me before junior high graduation. I used a clip-on for the Seirin interview. Did I do it wrong? I thought it looked okay, I saw a tutorial on Youtube...”

 

"It looks 'okay', but you don't want to just be 'okay'," Akashi mutters, lurching up and swiftly untying the offending tie with a hook of one finger. "You're going to look perfect. First impressions are everything." 

 

“Then I’m doomed,” Kagami says with a shrug. “I can do scary as a first impression. If I try to look too goody-goody I just look sloppy and I forget my sentence endings.”

 

"I'm not telling you to look goody-goody. I'm telling you--oh, bend forward, you've grown and I hate-love that." Akashi grabs and pulls Kagami forward a bit more before the command is actually obeyed, loops the tie back into place, and ties it with the efficiency of someone very used to doing the same to anyone that asked. "Don't do scary, either. Just be yourself, if more polite, and be enthusiastic about your transfer. Say I've been your tutor, talk about basketball." 

 

Kagami tries to be serious, but Akashi is entirely too cute, and he just _has_ to sneak a kiss before straightening up. He adjusts his collar, and tucks his shirt properly into his pants under his blazer. “Try not to stress about it. I’ll get in or I won’t, you know? I’ll stress more if you’re worried. Either way, we’ll make it work.”

 

"I'm not worried, this is not me being worried." Right, maybe he's a little more high strung, but Akashi thinks he has _reason_ to be, no matter the theory of 'making it work no matter what.' That ideology rarely works out, as far as he's concerned. "I'll show you to their office," he says, climbing to his feet and picking up his own bag. "And I'll meet you afterwards to show you around before your exam." 

 

“Hopefully they won’t have just booted me out before then,” Kagami says, hopping to his feet at last and grabbing for Akashi’s bag out of habit, only to see he’s already picked it up. Whatever. “If Tatsuya shows up, just ignore him, he’s in a weird mood.”

 

"…Noted." Things he is going to absolutely ask Mibuchi about the second that he drops Kagami off. "Give me your bag, it's in poor taste to bring it into your interview."

 

“It is?” Fuck, Kagami is entirely sure that he’s going to do half a dozen things _in poor taste_ in the first minute, if this is any indication. “Sure...” He’s absolutely going to fuck this up.

 

Mibuchi nudges gently against Akashi’s shoulder the second they’re out of the classroom, falling in step automatically to escort Kagami to the Headmaster’s office. “You’ll be fine, Kagami-kun. _Nebuya_ got in.” Is eighth in his year, actually, but Mibuchi finds it startling nonetheless.

 

"Eikichi has a number of habits that made his interview less than satisfactory, or so I've heard," Akashi wearily admits, sparing a glance briefly up at Mibuchi before turning his attention back to Kagami. "Reo's right. You'll be fine. I'm just nitpicking." 

 

The walk isn't a long one, and sending off Kagami is fortunately met without a whole lot of attention in their direction. Akashi surrounded by tall men that are undoubtedly basketball-related? Normal, and so Kagami is no different, even if he's obviously a transfer student in the making. "Just wait right inside the office, they'll call your name." This is, at least, not as stressful as trying to prep someone like Aomine for a test. Kagami has a brain that _retains things…_ and he looks a million times better in a suit.Time to appreciate that later, when nerves have passed him over. 

 

Kagami stands, trying not to fidget when his brain is telling him that _you’re going to mess this up, you’re the reason Akashi is going to have another mental break, you’re going to have to spend the next two years of your life watching Aomine and Kuroko make out._ It’s not easy, but looking at the people passing, casually wearing the Rakuzan uniform, talking and laughing and complaining about homework, does a lot to relax him. It’s just a school, at the end of the day.

 

“Kagami Taiga?”

 

Kagami breathes heavily, suddenly losing that train of nice casual relaxation. “Wish me luck,” he mutters under his breath, straightening his tie one last time.

 

“Good luck, Kagami-kun!”

 

“Not you.”

 

"Good luck, Taiga," Akashi softly says, priding himself on _not_ reaching over and straightening Kagami's suit jacket or smoothing his hair, or kissing him right there in front of everyone. That's not exactly in good taste, but a subtle brush of his fingers over the back of Kagami's hand where no one can see is fine. "I'll meet you afterwards, and we'll grab something to eat before your exam." 

 

“Yeah!” That makes Kagami relax better than anything. Promises of food usually do. He straightens his back, then walks into the Headmaster’s office, only just remembering to bow before entering, then shutting the door behind him with a soft _snick_ of the latch.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Mibuchi offers. “Headmaster’s got a soft spot for the team.”

 

"Why do I only get nervous when I watch other people do interviews or take exams?" Akashi groans immediately, wiping a hand down his face. "Ugh, more importantly, Reo--is it true that Yosen's shooting guard is here?" _Is this a conversation we can have publicly_ is the next question, unspoken but leveled in a stare up at him.

 

Mibuchi’s smile has a razor’s edge. “I’m fairly certain he’s intending to ruin everything. I had a chat with him earlier--he’s _so_ slippery, Sei-chan, how does he even stand still on the court?”

 

Akashi picks up both his bag and Kagami's in short order, and makes a beeline out of the office, fully expecting Mibuchi to follow. Some things needn't be talked about when administrators are hovering, and Akashi is fairly certain that people like Himuro Tatsuya qualify. "Please explain." 

 

Mibuchi peels off his blazer, tossing it over one shoulder. “He told me he was here to make sure Kagami-kun was safe and sound, but if that’s a straight answer, I’m a straight man. Should I go find him?”

 

"I really don't care what you have to do; I want him away from Taiga today." Akashi thinks that's valid. "He didn't bring Atsushi with him, I hope." He can only handle so many _issues_ at once.

 

“You want me to give him a blowjob, you mean?” Mibuchi asks knowingly, with only a _bit_ of a sigh.

 

Akashi looks up at him with a start. "That is _not_ where my mind was going, but, um…I'm not going to tell you not to, if you're--wait, seriously? _Reo._ "

 

Mibuchi blinks, five or six times. “Eh? I thought that’s what you meant. Is it--was that wrong?”

 

"Where in the world did you get the idea that I was talking about a blowjob?" 

 

“I--”

 

Mibuchi opens, then closes his mouth, hiding his expression behind one hand. “Don’t look at me with those intense eyes, Sei-chan, you’ll make Nee-chan feel like an _awful_ pervert.” And maybe he’d been thinking just a _little_ too much about one Himuro Tatsuya and his sly expression, whoops.

 

Akashi stares at him harder, because he feels that's _very necessary_. "You're being an awful pervert _now?_ What, did someone put fresh batteries in you finally?" 

 

“Okay, have fun with Kagami-kun!” Mibuchi says, hurrying away to search for Himuro. “Good luck, Sei-chan!” 

 

It isn’t as if he hadn’t _wanted_ Akashi. Sometimes even now, Mibuchi wakes up with what he swears is the faint taste of the younger boy on his lips, reaching for something ephemeral, knowing he’ll never hold it again, never truly had in the first place. It’s his own fault, through and through, sure. Certainly, a man has needs, and for him, part of that is the ability to envision a future, no matter how distant, with a _lover_ , not just a _beloved_ , to be equals and partners and together, and it shouldn’t feel so awfully selfish to think that way...maybe.

 

And now, for some reason, his libido seems to have decided to take everything out on one Himuro Tatsuya, who Does Not Date. Well, fine. Mibuchi scours the school, finally turning up that familiar ass in those absolutely designer jeans in the courtyard outside the testing area, latching on. “Himuro-kun, there you are! Ah, you must think me a dreadful host.”

 

"I really don't care," Himuro tosses back with remarkable swiftness, putting out what is fortunately only his second cigarette courtesy of a great deal of self-control. Mibuchi makes him want to pull out a third one, unfortunately, and it takes a lot of work to school his face into impassivity rather than a scowl. "Where's Taiga?" Already in the clutches of this damned school, no doubt, but it was never the plan to physically stop him from trying; just to offer up a different point of view.

 

“Never you mind that. He’s being well taken care of, I promise.”

 

Mibuchi flicks his eyes down to the cigarette, and lets out a slow hum of disapproval. “ _Honestly_ , aren’t there better ways to annoy your mother? A piercing, perhaps? Something that doesn’t interfere with your basketball-playing future?”

 

"I have a dozen of them," is the deadpan response. "The fact that you don't notice them is really helpful to know, actually, thanks. A few cigarettes isn't going to kill what future I've got left, anyway. When is Taiga going to be done?" 

 

“With Rakuzan? In about two years, I expect,” Mibuchi says sweetly. “Darling, if you’re offering to show me the ones that aren’t publicly visible, you must really be all worked up about your little _display_ earlier. Or are you just that eager to get Kagami-kun kicked out of Rakuzan before he’s accepted?”

 

"It would make things easier, actually, yeah." 

 

Himuro sighs, rolling his eyes, and finally gives up and shrugs off his coat, because Kyoto is just too damned warm for fashion. "Even ear piercings are against Yosen's dress code," he half-heartedly supplies. "Which is what most of mine are. Skin-colored retainers work wonders. Seriously, what do you want, I'm not leaving if that's what your new assignment from your boss is all about." 

 

“Not to get you to leave. Just to keep an eye on you. And he’s my beloved _Captain_ , not my _boss_ , how crass. Or are things at Yosen run with an iron fist, hmm? That lady coach of yours does seem to be the iron fist type...or is she putty in your hands like most women seem to be?” _The flirting is too much_ , Mibuchi tells himself firmly, with zero incentive to stop himself.

 

"Our coach isn't most women." Himuro, frustrated and put out and annoyed that the point he was trying to make earlier clearly didn't shake Kagami's mind firmly enough, can't help but snidely jab back, "You, on the other hand, seem pretty stereotypical." 

 

“You can’t just say that kind of thing to a girl, Himuro-kun,” Mibuchi objects, smoothing the hair back from his face. “Not when you’re not being _nearly_ cute enough to turn me into putty. Do I look that easy to you?” Whatever. It’s a fun way to spend a morning when he’s already done with his own exams, at least.

 

Himuro glances at Mibuchi, looks him up and down, and nods. "Very much so." 

 

Mibuchi huffs. “After a comment like that, you could at least have the decency to look a _little_ less frazzled,” he says with a sniff. “Or was pining after your dear little brother just too much? Was this supposed to be your last chance at winning his affections before the big bad Akashi got his hooks in him for good?” He may not have understood a goddamn thing they were talking about, but some things--like a long public kiss with tongue--are difficult to misunderstand.

 

"It's not like that at all, but nice try." 

 

Himuro exhales a long breath, and flops down onto the nearest bench, crossing one leg over the other as he slumps back. "I'm not interested in Taiga like that," he bluntly clears up. "But I am interested in making a point to him, and that's that it doesn't matter _who_ it is--he'd skip out on Seirin, move to another school, join another team, just if they gave him a pat on the head and a chance at their dick. If I whined and cried at him enough, he'd come up to Akita and freeze his ass off instead." 

 

Mibuchi raises his eyebrows, folding his arms across his chest. “Ah. So it’s not that you came all the way to Kyoto to save him from what you think is a bad relationship, by telling him that he could have a better one with you. It’s that you came to tell him he’s an easy slut that’s better off alone, hmm? And he _didn’t_ immediately fall into line after that? Fascinating. What _could_ he be thinking?”

 

"If he were actually with someone that I thought wasn't a total waste of his time, it would be different," Himuro sweetly replies, a smile on his lips that's not at all kind. "Then I'd give him my blessing and be done with it. As it is, he's fucking a psychopath that still freaks the hell out of someone else I've had to pick up the pieces for, and I'm not interested in dealing with it again."

 

“ _Well_.” Mibuchi’s voice could be more impressed. Mibuchi himself could be more impressed with Himuro as a whole. “By all means. I’ll just tell dear Kagami-kun not to date Sei-chan anymore, because his best friend isn’t interested in dealing with the fallout if it goes badly. What an inconsiderate boy--you know, he probably didn’t even _think_ about how his relationship would affect you? My god, I’ll be he was only thinking about how _he_ felt, and not how Himuro Tatsuya would feel!”

 

"You know, I'm gonna kick you in the balls pretty soon here." 

 

“That interested in them, are you?”

 

"Oh my god. Are you for real?" 

 

Mibuchi waves a hand, mildly embarrassed at that. “Never mind, sorry. I’m usually much more elegant in my speech. Something about you makes me vulgar, ugh.”

 

Himuro levels a bored stare upon him. "And you had the nerve to accuse me of not getting enough earlier. So did Akashi just not put out when you were dating him, or what?"

 

“As if I’d sully him with something so...” Mibuchi trails off, unable to quite be flippant about that yet. He swallows, and the teasing smile fades from his face. “I couldn’t do that, to be honest. He was--almost too special to me, you know? Ah, I don’t even know if you’d understand that.”

 

Oh, god. He does _not_ want to talk about things like this, but here they are, with nothing better to do, and Mibuchi makes him want to run his mouth, obnoxiously enough. "Taiga and I never dated," he settles upon. "Because I made sure of it. I don't know, it's easier to prove a point about why something's not going to work if I just let him get it out of his system. So I get it, in the opposite sense." 

 

Mibuchi sighs, leaning back against the low garden wall on Himuro’s other side. “Did he make you feel like an _awful_ pervert?” he asks wistfully. “Not that I could tell him--he was so enthusiastic and determined, but so _innocent_ , and here am I, experienced and older and...”

 

"Definitely an awful pervert?" Himuro finishes dryly. Giving up on restraint, he fishes out a third (and what he tells himself to be the _final)_ cigarette of the day. "Taiga's so opposite of me that I don't even know anymore. It's easy to fake your way through what people expect of you, but I was hoping I wouldn't have to do that with him. I dunno, it just didn't work." 

 

“Expectations of normalcy are an awful thing,” Mibuchi says, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the cigarette, then changing sides so he can stand upwind. No smoke in his lungs, no _thank_ you--he’d even begged, cajoled, and finally outlasted his father in a battle until the old man had quit, at least while his son was home. “Stifling, I’d call them. You two really are fire and ice, eh? With sex, or just love? From what I’ve heard, there isn’t a way he doesn’t burn.”

 

"…Both, maybe? Maybe I'm just not his type as much as he thinks I am." Himuro smiles wryly at that, flicking away a bit of ash. "Taiga's a handful. I guess I'm pissed off that your prissy captain handles him so well. I expected them to get sick of one another after a weekend, that would've been easier." 

 

“If it helps....so was I,” Mibuchi admits. “I was hoping they would, even. I mean, it sounds fine, in theory? But all I could think is, you’re giving your _rival_ , someone who knows all of these people who wish you ill--you’re letting him see you at your most vulnerable? Are you _crazy?_ ” He folds his arms again, clenching his teeth. “I still think it could go horribly wrong, and he stands to lose a lot more than Kagami-kun, whose family is in America.”

 

Finally, it seems like they're speaking the same language, and that's both annoying as much as it is a relief. "I don't know what Taiga's thinking," Himuro bluntly says. "Listen--my issues aside for five seconds here, that relationship has nowhere to go. The idea of Taiga throwing himself headlong into something that's a hot mess from the start and is only going to end up breaking his heart really doesn't appeal to me. That's why _I_ never dated him." 

 

“I never let things go too far with Sei-chan because I knew he’d literally never be able to see me even mildly openly,” Mibuchi says frankly. “And now he’s dating someone with the tact and secrecy of a battering ram. _Where_ is the logic in that? He’s bloody _meika_ , it’s not like he can just run around with secret love nests.” He shoves the hair back from his face, looking around to make certain they haven’t been overheard. “But that sounds awful, doesn’t it? I’m trying to just tell myself that if they’re _discreet_ , they can have fun in high school, and that will be the end of it. Maybe it’ll burn itself out. Relationships _do_.”

 

" _Taiga_ doesn't burn out. That's the problem with him." Himuro shuts his eyes as he inhales, the nicotine unfortunately doing nothing to settle his nerves regarding that issue. "He's also the biggest homo you've ever met, and Akashi is _exactly_ his type, according to what he's told me, down to the elegant nobility bullshit. This isn't going away and I really hate that." 

 

Mibuchi tries not to grind his teeth, knowing that’s not attractive. “Women,” he says firmly, trying not to be snippy, “are much easier. God, I miss women sometimes.”

 

Himuro has to groan out loud at that. " _Right?_ Women are so easy to deal with. I just wish they were more _interesting_ to be with." They never are, unfortunately, and he does hate that.

 

“Women are plenty interesting,” Mibuchi argues. “Proper ones are, who want to be treated like _ladies_. Not...” He flaps a hand around them, and sighs. “Schoolgirls are high-maintenance. And older women just want a plaything, not a prince.”

 

"I'd believe that if I didn't literally get notes from the schoolgirls, younger teachers, _and_ cleaning ladies at Yosen, all asking to be my next one night stand." Himuro waves a dismissive hand. "It's all the same thing. Some people are into that, and I'm not." 

 

“Boring,” Mibuchi agrees. “And trashy. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my short-term relationships.” Sometimes measured in hours. “It’s fine when it’s just...moved by passion? But for it to be so coldly calculated, ah, that’s not something that appeals to my maiden heart.”

 

"You're so overdramatic. Girls are girls, boys aren't any better, and they're a million times more paranoid. In Japan, at any rate," Himuro mutters, hunching over his cigarette. "It's not exactly perfect in the States, but I'd rather that than what it's like here. The guys are just hotter here, which sucks." 

 

“That is _highly_ unfortunate. Good taste is such a burden, isn’t it?” Mibuchi can’t remember how often he’s thought those exact words with regards to himself, and his upsettingly high standards. He flicks a glance up at Himuro’s face, and a corner of his mouth curls up. “I’m glad to know you’re really concerned about him, you know.”

 

Himuro glances up at him, and tries not to scowl. He fails. "Did you seriously think I was just being a total creep? I'm not into him like that." 

 

“No no no,” Mibuchi explains hastily. “Not like that. I just meant it’s glad to know that he’s the kind of guy that inspires loyalty like that. Remember, all we knew about the guy is that he’s a high jumper and likes pretty boys.”

 

"Oh. Fair enough." Himuro heaves a sigh at that, and flicks away the dying end of his cigarette without care. "No, Taiga's basically as high spec as you can get. He's a really good guy. That's why I'm pissed off that he's wasting himself on your crazy captain. Sorry, I just don't get it." 

 

“Sei-chan’s appeal is a delicate taste,” Mibuchi muses, allowing himself a moment to think about the utterly dreamy Sei-chan and his fascinating eyes. “He’s like sharpened spun sugar, that boy. So sweet, but you’ll hurt yourself and destroy him if you want a taste. And ah, that’s some of my favorite appeal.”

 

"That's very poetic, but it doesn't tell me much. Literally all I know is what Atsushi has told me--a lot of crazy, mostly. So, he's fucking insane, and tried to stab Taiga at one point, and then gave himself a haircut. Now he's got Taiga wrapped around his little finger, plus big family issues. You've got to admit, that sounds pretty bad for a proper boyfriend candidate." 

 

Mibuchi blinks. “Atsushi--isn’t he the one that either talks like a gangster or a child, and has to be bribed with snacks to get out of bed?”

 

"He does that to get away with literally everything, yeah, and it's a pain in the ass, but he's _seriously_ cute," Himuro mutters crossly. "I hate that." 

 

“All of these ‘miracles’ have terrible behavior, quite honestly. And most of them are _very_ cute.” Mibuchi huffs out a breath, and his hair flutters. “They’re honestly a problem.”

 

"Prodigies are assholes," Himuro points out. "That's their default state. They're lucky, they don't care, and they operate on the mentality that they can have whatever they want. I'm hoping that Taiga doesn't absorb that by being here." 

 

“Rakuzan trains _very_ hard. And there’s no special treatment given here for celebrities, either. If he’s willing to play basketball, we’ll take care of him.” Mibuchi’s voice softens slightly, and he urges, “I mean it. We look after our own here.”

 

"Uh huh. I'll believe it when I see it." Himuro hesitates, and finally asks, feeling very infuriatingly defeated, "Don't let him get carried away with this relationship thing, will you? Your school's a lot more _friendly_ , but it's still Japan, and if he gets in trouble, I'm in Akita." 

 

Mibuchi holds out his hand. “I promise. I’ll call the second something happens.” One corner of his mouth quirks up. “So you should give me your phone number.”

 

Himuro opens his mouth to protest that, then shuts it again promptly, frowning as he nevertheless takes Mibuchi's hand to shake on their promise. "I set myself up for that one, didn't I." He could sound more annoyed. That would be so helpful. 

 

Mibuchi pulls out his phone with his other hand, plopping it into Himuro’s hand. “You did. Put in your number, I’ll call you so you have mine too.” _And so I know you didn’t give me a fake one, you slippery, handsome bastard._

 

"You're a piece of work," Himuro mutters, nevertheless doing as he's told and begrudgingly entering in his phone number. "So, be honest. What did you tell your _boss_ you were going to do to keep me out of his hair for the rest of the time Taiga's running around here?" 

 

“I told him I was going to give you a blowjob,” Mibuchi answers, entirely honest and entirely unabashed. “But I privately thought you’d be more work than that. I’m glad to see I was right.”

 

Himuro's eyebrows slowly raise. "Not only am I a lot more work, but I'm pretty sure a blowjob doesn't last that long." 

 

“Darling, you’ve never had one of _mine_.” Mibuchi does wish he could bring himself to smoke. He’s pretty sure he’d look gorgeous doing it. “Trust me, you’d be out cold for an hour afterwards. Useless, at least, if not unconscious.” Overselling? _Never_.

 

"Uh huh." Himuro climbs to his feet, pushing Mibuchi's phone back into his hand with a smile. "Then let me make something pretty clear. If I'm gonna go through the effort of doing it with someone, it's going to be more than a world-famous blowjob. If I'm going to be out cold, then I better have been fucked within an inch of my life…and considering you seem to be all about what your mouth can do, which basically is a whole lot of _talk_ …"

 

Mibuchi’s knees go quite liquid for a moment, and his eyes glint. “You have about two seconds to change your mind,” he says lightly, voice breathy and amused, “before I drag you back to my dorm room and make you eat more than your words.”

 

Damn it, but Himuro does hate how he can't back down once he's started something. Not that he really wants to, but… _doubting_ is kind of his specialty, even if he's already cheerfully throwing himself off of a cliff. Ugh. Whatever, it's not like he didn't give Kagami something to think about already. "Try me." 

 

Mibuchi sighs. “Cockiness is _so_ attractive,” he says mournfully, and throws himself headlong into the situation with only minor regrets. He grabs Himuro by the tie, then yanks him clean off his feet, down the hallways at breakneck speed.

 

“Nice catch, Reo-nee!” someone calls gleefully.

 

“Don’t let him get away, he looks like a biter!” someone else yells.

 

"Not like Catholic school at all, huh," Himuro bites out, unsure if he should be even more annoyed with himself, flustered or…fuck it, he doesn't give a damn. If word gets back to Yosen that he's been doing shit like this--eh. _Good. Give them a reason to ship me back to California, stat._

 

“They think they’re joking, bless their souls,” Mibuchi says blissfully, dragging Himuro down one more hallway, then up a few flights of stairs, taking them several at a time without pausing. “The first thing I did here was publicly date a girl. You’d be surprised what that will do for people’s denial of--well, no, you probably know that perfectly well, don’t you?”

 

"If you choke me before I'm in bed, I'm not gonna be happy about it," Himuro dryly tells him, even as he keeps pace with Mibuchi quite easily. "And yeah, I know how that is. I can literally make out with a guy and they just think I'm being fucking hilarious." 

 

“They literally all call me Reo-nee, and Sei-chan sat in my lap for six months,” Mibuchi says with a sigh, stopping at his dorm room and pulling out his key, “and everyone still thinks their cute little brothers are safe with me. It’s baffling. After you, my sweet.”

 

"Japanese guys are so stupid." Says a Japanese guy, to a Japanese guy, but the point still very much stands. Mibuchi's dorm room is about what Himuro expects--clean and organized and fresh-smelling, with the organization taking a hit as Himuro tosses his jacket over the back of a nearby desk chair and grabs Mibuchi by _his_ tie this time, hauling him in for a hot, wet kiss as the door slams shut behind him.

 

Mibuchi has just enough presence of mind to flip the door’s lock, then lets himself greedily drink in Himuro’s taste, slipping his tongue between soft lips, clutching at Himuro’s clothes with both hands as he shoves them both down to the bed. “You think you’re a _really_ good kisser, don’t you?” he breathes, eyes alight as he straddles Himuro’s waist, untucking his shirt.

 

"Been told as much," Himuro snidely shoots back, at least vaguely annoyed at the way his heart rate is already skyrocketing, because no, _no_ , it's not allowed to be good and _fun_. He takes his frustration out on Mibuchi's tie again, yanking him closer as he leans back onto an elbow and takes a snap at the arc of Mibuchi's throat instead, teeth grazing pale skin. "Why? You think you're better or something?" 

 

“Sweetheart, I’m better at everything.”

 

Mibuchi plants one long leg between Himuro’s thighs, dragging his knee up when he presses his weight down, taking control this time in a brutal kiss that sizzles its way through them, slow and intense, giving Himuro no time to breathe before he deepens the kiss again, holding him down with his full weight. “And I’m going to take you better than you’ve ever been fucked.”

 

Huh. Well. Go fucking figure, that does it for him. 

 

Himuro's not of the mind to start comparing skill level at the moment, but he's pretty sure no one's ever made him _harder_ than Mibuchi has with just a couple of kisses. He groans and growls as he arches up, hands fisted into Mibuchi's shirt, sucking on the tongue that shoves its way into his mouth, and panting hot and slow between every little pause. His hips grind up, shoving against that thigh, and his teeth nip into Mibuchi's lower lip the first chance he gets to suck and pull on it. "I'll give you the verdict afterwards," he breathes. "I guess you're off to a pretty good start, though." 

 

“You’re lucky that being constantly judged kind of does it for me,” Mibuchi murmurs, feeling his cock swell with that long slow bite, repaying Himuro in kind the first chance he gets. His hand snakes up under Himuro’s shirt, thumbing over hard abdominals, feeling the dip and groove in smooth skin over solid muscles. “Use your words, baby. How do you want me to treat you, hmm?”

 

Himuro's breath sucks in sharply, his muscles jumping underneath just the first brush of Mibuchi's fingers--which is fucking annoying, _by the way_. He tries to think back rapidly to the last time he's gotten laid--awhile? probably? god, Akita feels like hibernation--and he sags back with a breathy laugh. "Like you're gonna ride me hard and put me up wet," Himuro answers honestly, yanking his own tie off and pulling his shirt up and over his head in short order. 

 

There are at least three tattoos that can be easily seen--a dragon winding its way up from his right hip, a handful of lyrics etched into his ribs, Alex's WNBA number stamped firmly into his left side--and simple silver j-curve piercing his navel. "It's been awhile, but I don't care." This is what he's just going to do down in Kyoto, _apparently_. 

 

Mibuchi’s fingers trace over the sinuous lines of tattoos, eyes dark and hooded. He likes watching the way the skin around it ripples, changing and contracting with every breath Himuro takes. The dragon, he takes extra time with, ghosting his fingertips up his spine, over the proudly arched neck, along his crest. Then he bends, kissing his way down Himuro’s neck, soft brushes of his lips before he closes his teeth over one nipple in a sharp bite, then trails down again to that naval piercing. “You said you had about a dozen,” he murmurs, flicking it with his tongue as his hands slide up jean-covered thighs. “Do I have to play hide and seek for all of them?”

 

"I don't…ah…have all of them in right now," Himuro says, almost apologetic, and he gives into the urge to drag a hand through Mibuchi's hair, which he's been dying to do since it started blowing in the stupid Kyoto wind ( _ugh_ ). He shifts, unable to stop the squirm that lets his legs open up further underneath the touch of Mibuchi's hands. "It's not like I expected to end up here…with someone that _apparently_ likes that kind of thing. I thought you'd be a lot prissier about it." 

 

“Hmm, haven’t you ever heard of slumming it?” Mibuchi teases. He grips the zipper delicately between his front teeth, tugging it down with one fluid motion, then parting the flaps of Himuro’s jeans to free his cock. “Or maybe that opposites attract? Just don’t rush me, I’ll give it to you hard enough that you’ll pass out as long as you’re patient and let me take my time.” 

 

With that, he slides his lips over the head of Himuro’s cock with a soft, obscene sucking noise, curling his tongue as he moans.

 

Himuro had half a dozen comebacks to that before Mibuchi's mouth was on his dick, and well. That's enough of that. 

 

 _It's probably because it's been awhile,_ he dazedly tells himself, even as his fingers wrap up into Mibuchi's hair and try not to yank, even as he slithers down into the bed with a breathy, pleased noise. No matter _what_ the reasoning is, Mibuchi's mouth still feels incredible, his lips soft and his tongue so hot and wet that Himuro could cry from how good it feels. His cock jumps at every swipe of that tongue, and Himuro shudders, cursing underneath his breath. "F-fine, I'm not _rushing you_." 

 

Mibuchi leans forward, taking in a deep breath through his nose before he lets that lovely cock slide into his mouth, relaxing his throat with long practice to let the head in, until his nose brushes coarse straight hairs. Then, deliberately, he swallows before pulling back up, off just enough to rest his lips against the slippery tip. “Good boy,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue over the underside of his cock, wrapping his hand around the base. “I heard bad boys from America got _these_ pierced, too. I’m almost disappointed. Spread your legs, baby, I want in.”

 

The English language is _so_ good for expletives, which are about all that his mind can think of for a second. Right, so Mibuchi can deep throat, that's not hot at _all_ \--it's just enough to leave him somewhat boneless already, weirdly shivery and with his cock slowly leaking every single time Mibuchi as much as touches him again, fucking christ. "Those guys don't want to get _laid_ ," Himuro groans, eagerly opening his legs. "Girls don't want a guy with a dick piercing, seriously." 

 

Mibuchi pulls away for just long enough to grab a single-serving package of lube from a box displayed prominently and shamelessly on his shelf, next to one of condoms, both with a brightly-printed sign urging, **TAKE ONE! SAFE SEX IS GOOD SEX! <3**

 

“Girls don’t know what they’re missing,” he assures Himuro, tearing open the packet and pouring about half of it on his fingers. The first two slide in without too much effort, which Mibuchi _does_ enjoy. “Good, I was worried this was going to be difficult, but you’re nice and open for me, aren’t you? Hmm, you like dirty talk? Rimming? Last time you got tested?” He punctuates that with a precise, searching curl of his fingers, rubbing hard over Himuro’s prostate to keep from the discussion turning too clinical.

 

It's fucking _grand_ that Mibuchi can keep himself so calm during this, and Himuro desperately grasps for some kind of grounding force when his hips buck down on their own accord, grinding helplessly into that perfect, aching _press_. "Fuck you," is the groan to follow without a single bit of bite to it, and Himuro lets his head loll back onto a pillow, an arm thrown over his face as he curls his toes into the bed and wriggles his way down against Mibuchi's hand. "I always use condoms, my parents would fucking kill me if they found out I went somewhere to get _tested_ , but I'm not an idiot, I'm picky." 

 

As much as he'd like to bitch that this isn't going as fast as he wants, it's sort of oddly nice to be the one taken care of so thoroughly for a change, and Himuro exhales a shuddering breath as he squeezes around those fingers and writhes down, his muscles bunching and tense when that just makes his cock drip more over his stomach. "God, don't make this weird. You can say and do whatever you want, just _fuck me_." 

 

Mibuchi exhales deeply against Himuro’s cock, giving the head a hard suck that already tastes bitter-salty on his tongue. _Nice_. “I usually like the person I’m with to be a bit better behaved than this,” he murmurs, breath catching as he reaches down to palm himself a little, just to get rid of a bit of that growing tension. “But I guess I’ll let you slide.” He might have just a little bit of a soft spot for bad boys, oops. 

 

His fingers slide free, and without preamble, he turns Himuro onto his side, spooning up behind him, pressing their bodies together as he urges Himuro’s top leg up, bending it at the knee. “We’ll start out here,” he says, sliding on the condom with his other hand. He turns his head, sucking Himuro’s earlobe into his mouth, dragging his teeth over it after probing for piercings. “Then when you’ve had enough, I’ll flip you over and ride you hard, hmm?” If he doesn’t start slow, there’s no way in hell he’ll make it through long enough to really satisfy both of them--and as Akashi has been quick to point out many times, once he’s _done_ , he’s usually done. There’s a reason he buys his condoms thicker than average.

 

"F-fine." The idea is a really nice one, actually, and Himuro is quick to arch back where the stickiness and heat of skin and Mibuchi's _fucking mouth_ are all driving him crazy. In any other circumstance, Himuro is pretty sure he'd just shove Mibuchi down and ride him already, but… "If you're as good as you say, maybe the next time we meet up, I'll actually put in my tongue piercing for you," he breathlessly jabs, his next inhale catching up in his throat as he presses back so that the head of Mibuchi's cock rubs against his hole. "That's one that girls _like_." 

 

“Mm, I’m sure I will,” Mibuchi agrees. One arm loops hard as iron around Himuro’s waist, pulling him back flush against Mibuchi’s body. The other wraps around his own cock, guiding it to the slick hole Himuro’s so eager to shove at him, rubbing around it before dipping briefly inside, then pulling back. “Take a deep breath, baby,” he breathes. 

 

Then he sinks his teeth into Himuro’s neck in the same instant he shoves his cock in, slamming the entire length in in one thorough thrust, hearing the satisfying slap of his thighs against Himuro’s ass. “Oh...that’s a good boy, you’re taking it so nice,” he says, voice choked as he holds still, grinding in deep, forcing Himuro to adjust to the sudden hard thick cock buried in his ass. “Hold on tight and bite down hard.”

 

Himuro hears himself more than he actually processes that _he's_ the noisy one here, between gasps and panting groans and his voice cracking at the edges when he's suddenly so utterly and completely full. It feels like every muscle in his body wants to twitch and shiver, clamping down tight, squeezing to the point that it feels like cramping through his entire back and stomach, even down his thighs and calves. 

 

And it's fucking _glorious_ , that's for sure. 

 

Relaxing, admittedly, is easier said than done, and not something he even cares about. He grinds back with a low, hissing groan, clawing a hand back to grab at whatever part of Mibuchi he can sink his fingers into, his face shoving down into the sheets to bite back into them and muffle a whine when just a single, slow roll of his hips back makes his body squeeze and shiver anew, all on its own accord. "You," Himuro pants out, "have a _nice_ dick." 

 

“Thought you’d like that.” It’s a gentle tease, as Mibuchi is a lot more occupied in reminding himself not to come _immediately_ like some kind of fucking virgin child. He inhales deeply, trying to think of things other than how good Himuro feels around him, squeezing tight and hot and wet as if he’s made to be here. Once his heart rate stabilizes a little, he draws back, rocking his hips in and out in shallow circles, pulling out just an inch or two before filling Himuro again, drinking in his broken little wheezes and whines. 

 

There’s nothing better than the sound of someone enjoying his cock, really. Mibuchi’s hand squeezes into the muscle of Himuro’s leg, drawing him back, never letting him get too far away. “You like that? Tell me you like that, baby. You like being nice and full of cock, don’t you?”

 

Himuro is pretty sure he should be pissed off that Mibuchi is hitting all of his buttons so well, but for once in his life, he decides to just roll with it, and really fucking _enjoy it_. 

 

"Y-yeah, I love it." There's not an ounce of shame in those words, not when they're throaty and breathless and Himuro's eager to ride back against each of those shallow thrusts. Nothing feels better than being constantly full, the stretch of Mibuchi's dick making him achy and shivery and glazed over. Inhaling deep when Mibuchi's in all the way makes him feel even fuller, and he'd be a fucking liar to say he didn't love that. "Fuck, I'm gonna be feeling this later," Himuro rasps, not sounding at all upset about it, not when he shifts and twists and gets his mouth on Mibuchi's neck instead, biting down and sucking on that perfect skin. 

 

“That’s the plan,” Mibuchi agrees, then groans, cock swelling even further buried deep when Himuro bites him. It’s nicer than he wants to admit, and his next few thrusts are harder, faster than he’d planned. His hand comes up to press on Himuro’s belly, far enough down that the edge brushes against pubic hair. “Feel me in here?” he asks, even if his voice is a little more ragged now. “Mm, feels like it’s almost too much for you.”

 

Himuro bites again, his eyes rolling back and one hand clawing its way up to fist into Mibuchi's hair, tugging in a weak form of revenge for--what? Making his dick even harder? God damn it. "Fuck you," he says, half-laughing, half-whimpering at the way his body clenches and shoves back at those words alone. "You're in so fucking deep, don't make it worse." 

 

“I said you’d feel it later, didn’t I?” Mibuchi asks, his own voice low and husky, all flippancy and easy laughter gone now. His eyes lid, and then he surges forward, pinning Himuro onto his belly and climbing on top, all without letting his cock slip out of the sweet tight heat of Himuro’s ass. 

 

He yanks up on Himuro’s hips, then shoves a hand down on his upper back, holding him to the bed. “Scream into the pillow if you scream, please,” he orders breathlessly, and finally gives in to the urge to screw him hard and fast and deep.

 

 _Fucking perfect_.

 

There's a _lot_ of relief to be found in being fucked like this by a guy that actually knows what he's doing, and there's a lot of tension lost when he's able to just grab one of Mibuchi's pillows, bite into it whenever his voice breaks or whenever he yelps and whines _way_ too loudly. His knees wobble only once before Himuro gets them planted solidly into the bed, making it _so_ much easier to shove back onto Mibuchi's cock--for a little while, at least, until he gives up and just lets Mibuchi drag him where he wants him, because that's _nice_. 

 

Mibuchi feels Himuro tense and squirming, and fetches him a sharp slap to his rear. “Just relax,” he orders, eyes glinting, and shoves in harder. Nothing has ever felt as perfectly snug and slick as Himuro’s ass, even better when it’s hot and red from how hard he’s being used. 

 

Too soon, he feels the familiar tension, the familiar heat rising, that combination thought of _I don’t ever want to stop_ and _I’ve got to get to the end soon or I’ll die!_ He bites his lip, and slams in deep, willing himself to calm down, to think of math, and manages to get himself back under control after a teetering moment. “Want to feel you come from just this,” he grunts. “Can you do that, baby? Come from just having me up your ass?”

 

Himuro stops his hand that's about to steal down and grab at his own cock just in time, and he huffs out a hot, wet breath, grabbing back at the pillow instead. "God, yeah, I want to," he pants out, feeling his muscles tremble in complaint when he squeezes down, feeling every bit of that stretch, how far Mibuchi's _in him_ , how his ass is spread open and full. He claws a hand blindly backwards, grabbing for one of Mibuchi's. "Yank me back on your dick with my hair, I fucking love that, I promise I'll keep my mouth shut." One way or another, he'll keep his voice down--he is _not_ letting someone interrupt them at this point, no way. 

 

Mibuchi leans forward enough to press a hard sucking kiss to the back of one shoulder. “You’re being so good for me,” he praises breathlessly, and dutifully wraps one hand up in thick dark hair. With the next thrust, he wrenches Himuro’s head back, driving in deep when he pulls, watching that beautiful lithe body arch and writhe. 

 

“I’m not--going to last, if you keep being so pretty,” he half-laughs, cock hard as it’s ever been, sweat dripping off his forehead as he ruts in almost violently, determined to make Himuro lose his mind.

 

Himuro is pretty sure he bites a hole into his own lower lip to keep his voice down before it ends up being his fist instead, his voice breaking on a ragged, muffled sob when Mibuchi shoves in so fucking perfectly that his vision blurs. 

 

There's not a _lot_ of time to feel ashamed about this. Himuro's pretty much past the idea of that with every muscle aching, his cock dripping a steady stream onto the sheets, sweat dripping down his spine from his shoulder blades when he's hauled backward and his back arches hard. His chest heaves, and that one, shallow breath is enough to snap the last cord of tension and leave him coming harder than he has in a long, _long_ time. 

 

Coming with a dick in his ass that's doing its _job right_ is something entirely different, and fucking intense. It leaves him shuddering, gulping in breaths as he sags forward against Mibuchi's hold, clawing a hand into the sheets and trying not to twist away immediately when pleasure turns to a sharp edge of agony, then back again. If he passes out, _fine_. Mibuchi wins.  

 

“You look so good,” Mibuchi mutters, quickly losing the ability to make sense, and not ruing it in the least. He starts to say something else, but how can he, when Himuro is under him like _this_ , making faces like _this_ , biting into his own fist because he can’t handle the dick in him, writhing and coming and _melting_ on his cock with the tightest clenching Mibuchi’s ever felt, _god_.

 

He only barely manages to muffle his own shout into Himuro’s shoulder, finally letting himself spill long and hard, flooding the condom as he fucks his way through his release, wishing for a bitter fleeting second that he’d pulled out, could mark Himuro that way, too.

 

Well, damned if he can’t.

 

He flops down with a groan, utterly spent, and slides out his softening cock. Before he goes entirely to jelly, he pulls off the condom and very deliberately lets it drop open onto Himuro’s lower back, slowly oozing against pale skin. Mibuchi exhales deeply, finally satisfied, and flops down to his back next to Himuro’s prone form. “Unghgh.”

 

"Jesus fucking Christ," is the muffled huff Himuro eventually manages to piece together as he slithers down into the bed, and feels every bit of that wet, sticky heat dripping down his back, figuring out what Mibuchi did in an instant. Well, _fine_. That's not a turn-on all over again or anything. Thankfully, his cock is basically in a permanent state of laughing at him at the idea of going a second time, which is one hell of a relief when his body isn't like, _listening_ to the idea of moving at all. "So, uh." 

 

“Hmm.” Mibuchi orders the room to piece itself together, which it does, regretfully resolving into a single coherent image at long last. “Oh. So. We’re apparently very good at that.”

 

"Damn it." Himuro eventually lifts his head, propping his chin onto a very bitten and chewed up pillow. "I was really hoping you were all talk." 

 

“Same. I kinda thought you’d wuss out on me after the first time I grabbed you.” Mibuchi sighs, thunking his head sideways onto Himuro’s shoulder. “No such luck.”

 

"I don't _wuss out_ on anything," Himuro crossly mutters, and somehow manages to get an arm to languidly flop over Mibuchi's back. "I'm pissed, though. Doing you has proven what I've always thought--most Japanese boys don't know how to _top_." 

 

Mibuchi opens his mouth to take offense, then nods slowly. “I’ve ruined you for them, hmm? For my part, I’m sort of done with the ones who squeak and cry and beg for me to go slow all the time--and it’s no better when they’re constantly fighting and trying to sort of...hmm, _top you back_ , either.”

 

Himuro shudders full-body with flashbacks. "It's like they don't want anyone to enjoy themselves. I'm glad it's not just me, I was pretty sure I was just being American, but apparently, everyone else is just _bad_ at this." 

 

“Maybe we have high standards. Maybe most people have bad sex.” That’s a worrying thought, and Mibuchi’s brows furrow. “I hope Sei-chan isn’t having bad sex. I thought I set him up for better.”

 

"Doubtful. Taiga brags, and he doesn't sugarcoat, so it must be pretty good, at least." Himuro shoves his face back down into a pillow. " _He's_ an energizer bunny. That sounds bad to me, personally, but whatever, to each his own." 

 

“Oh, thank god,” Mibuchi groans. “My dick does _not_ work like that twice in a row, no matter how many times Sei-chan begs me to put in fresh batteries. Men don’t work like that! Give it a break or accept a blowjob! God!”

 

"…Did he seriously tell you to put in fresh batteries." 

 

“He literally tells me that almost every day. He told me that today!”

 

"What, are you supposed to be a walking vibrator? God, it's always the younger guys, I hate that." 

 

“Even Kagami-kun?” Mibuchi asks, mildly curious. “I don’t know much about the _thing_ you two had, only that it existed. He seems so polite, though...It’s hard to imagine him complaining about sex.”

 

"I let him give me a blowjob, _once_ , because…I dunno." Putting it into words always makes it sound stupid and really gay--the American use of the term that Japanese guys don't get, so Himuro just doesn't bother explaining it that way. "I thought we might be able to have a thing," he settles upon, slowly rotating onto his side with a grimace and a long stretch. "And he was really into me, so I figured…why not, let's see if this can go anywhere. The answer was nowhere, and a whole lot of disappointment on both parts. There wasn't anything there, and I'd just drag him down." 

 

“Ah.” The word is soft, but full of understanding, and not a little commiseration. “I never meant to say that you were wrong about him being the kind of guy to fall in love with everyone, you know. You know him best. I just know that Sei-chan isn’t...he’s not thinking like that, about him. Good lord, I’ve never seen him _pine_ before.”

 

"…Yeah, well. It's not like I think Taiga cares about him _superficially_ or anything," Himuro begrudgingly mutters. "I don't know. It's a weird match and I don't want Taiga caught up in something that's really going to burn him out. Fucking _meika._ I don't get it. At least Atsushi's got the right idea about _his_ family, he's taking off to France for the year." 

 

“Is he?” Mibuchi thinks about that for a moment, then smirks. “Unless I’m wrong, doesn’t that make you the captain of an all-new team? Boring, transfer down here instead.”

 

"Yeah, I helped him with his application and everything, not that he even needed it. Smartass." Himuro stares back at him impassively. "I'd rather be the captain of an all-new team than warming the bench of Rakuzan's." 

 

“Fair enough,” Mibuchi allows. “It’s different from him, isn’t it?” 

 

He trails a finger down Himuro’s shoulder and arm, more interested than he should be. “It’s hard. Having a little brother so much more talented and charismatic than you’ll ever be. Isn’t it?”

 

"You're a lot sexier when you're banging me then when you're reminding me of what _literally_ every person has told me since I met Taiga." Himuro's mouth twitches. "Whatever. You get a pass, because at least you got stepped on by the Generation of Miracles." 

 

“I was talking about myself,” Mibuchi says mildly.

 

"Sweet. Then you _really_ get it." 

 

“Unfortunately.”

 

Himuro's eyes lid. "I hope your coach didn't pull the same shit that mine did," he says, allowing himself to vent, because who the fuck else is going to _get it._ "Which was basically say that I was the shitty one, and never her first pick. Even if I'm the one that practices more and fucking tries so much harder. That's the kind of thing that makes me really hate basketball, sometimes." 

 

“Hmm, no. Do women make good coaches?” Mibuchi stretches out, feeling his sore muscles complain. “Our coach mainly gets out of the way and lets Sei-chan do whatever he wants. It was nice, for a year,” he says suddenly. “When the five of us were in Middle School, before anyone had heard of them. The first year of high school...ah, that was less good. Everyone knew they were coming. No one even cared if we won, which of course we did, because the real show was _next_ year.”

 

"I've never had anything but women as coaches, actually. They're good, but man…they're _not_ good at sugarcoating anything." Himuro's smile twists wry. "Were you the captain over here, before Akashi showed up? Or was it some other sap that had to step down because he showed up and dunked on their heads?" 

 

“He graduated last year, actually. No head dunking--I think Sei-chan might have been a little disappointed, but we all welcomed him with open arms. But...” He hesitates, then presses on. Himuro had seen the last game, after all. He knows. “That was when he was different.”

 

"Mm. Got it." 

 

Himuro idly slides a hand over, splaying his fingers loosely over the jut of Mibuchi's hip, his thumb casually stroking slow circles there. "Tell me straight up. Do you think he's going to get like that again? Taiga might be pretty unfazed by it all, but that doesn't mean it's…fine, for him to have to deal with it." 

 

“I think he could,” Mibuchi says honestly. “But...” He turns his head, nibbling at Himuro’s ear. “I think people vastly overstated how awful he was, too. I mean, that’s the Sei-chan I fell in love with.”

 

"Or you just have really shitty taste," Himuro deadpans, hooking an arm solidly around Mibuchi's waist and hauling him over. Fuck it, they had sex, they can cuddle. 

 

Mibuchi lets out a pleased little noise and immediately turns to be the little spoon.  “I like beautiful boys that know their own appeal and talk down to me. A terrible affliction, of course. But...ah, you should have seen him, when he first got here. So serious. So sure of himself, but couldn’t make or understand a joke, with those big serious eyes--and he always looked so _lost_. We all fell for him, a little.”

 

"All of Rakuzan is crazy." Himuro slings an arm low around Mibuchi's waist and keeps it there, neatly curling himself against his back and half-burying his face into Mibuchi's hair. "But you're the worse, because you're the most disgusting apologist I've ever heard." 

 

“Guiltyy~!” And it’s hard to feel bad about it, when he usually gets everything he wants.


	10. Chapter 10

Kyoto is just as pretty at night, go figure. Buildings are lit up, but so are the gardens and trees, and not having to wear a coat when it's dark out is something that Himuro isn't all that accustomed to after the past couple of months. What a relief. 

 

Courtesy of Mibuchi's suggestion on timing, he arrives at the station probably a solid 45 minutes before Kagami, and waits at the same track he knows he'll be taking. It is absolutely a different train than the one he's going to need to get on, but whatever. What's another side trip to Tokyo? 

 

He huddles up into his coat on principle now, trying not to look as ruffled and chewed up as he feels, and tells himself to _be chill about this already_ the moment that he catches sight of Kagami above the rest of the crowds. Himuro lifts a hand vaguely in greeting, and steps around a couple of giggling girls to make his way to him. "You're not spending the night after all, huh?" 

 

Kagami looks somewhat apprehensive at first. When Himuro doesn’t immediately grab for him, he relaxes a little. His suit jacket is tossed over one shoulder, leaving him in what’s little more than an undershirt over his jeans. “Yeah, it didn’t work out to stay over. Too much to take care of back in Tokyo.” He can’t hide the grin on his face anymore after that. “I passed. I’m in. I made it, Tatsuya.”

 

"That's…really awesome, Taiga." It sounds more relieved than elated, admittedly, but at least it's not bitter. Nothing about this situation sits well with Himuro still, but if he stays up at arms about it, then nothing ever will. "Fucking nerd," he lowly accuses, giving Kagami's shoulder a solid punch. " _You_ got into _Rakuzan_." 

 

“I know! How? I’m still not sure, but they _swore_ the test wasn’t rigged.” Kagami’s grin fades a little when Himuro moves, and he catches a glimpse of a bruise. “Oi. They didn’t rough you up, did they? That’s not cool.”

 

"Huh? Uh. No." Himuro rubs at the side of his neck with his hand, shrugging it off with a smile. "More importantly, this is your train coming up, right? I'm riding back with you." 

 

Kagami gives him a sidelong look, but nods, more relieved than he wants to admit. “Yeah. Throw your ticket away, I got a reserved row.” He shrugs at the look that gets him. “I like to be able to stretch out my feet, okay?”

 

"You're gonna fit right in with all of these assholes," Himuro deadpans, stuffing his hands back into his coat. "That school's a trip. I got the full tour, can you believe their facilities? I bet your boyfriend's daddy paid for it." The best part about speaking fast and slang-ridden English? Being able to talk about being a giant goddamn gay in the middle of Japan. 

 

“I love English sometimes,” Kagami mutters to himself, nodding his head in the direction of the front of the train, leading Himuro towards the space marked for car 14. “So...speaking of, uh, stuff.” He looks around, but no one around on the sparsely populated platform _looks_ foreign enough to follow along. “You kissed me. We’re gonna talk about that.”

 

"Yeah. I was trying to make a point." Himuro glances away, vaguely annoyed that this came up already, but he supposes it's better to get it out of the way. "Which I'm guessing you didn't really get, but whatever." 

 

“I just--I think I got it. You’re showing me I’m still hung up on you, yeah?” Kagami shrugs, looking out at the empty tracks. “Nothing I didn’t already know. But just so you know, it doesn’t change my decision, and I’m not mad. I just wanna make sure you aren’t gonna do that every time. It’ll get weird.”

 

"No, Taiga. That's not what I was trying to point out." Himuro heaves a sigh, irritably rocking back onto his heels. That's a weight shift that probably was a poor decision, and he fights down a grimace as he straightens and pointedly _doesn't_ wobble. "It's the fact that…you get attached so easily, and even if it wasn't me, it could be someone else that could drag you way if they begged enough, you know? It was an asshole move, I get that. I guess I just want to make sure that you're not just doing this because it's just another guy that you've got a thing for. This is a lot to go through for 'just another guy.'" 

 

“Well. Yeah.” Kagami scratches the back of his head, his eyes tracking over Himuro’s winces and stumbles. “You know, you think I’m an idiot for guys, but I don’t _really_ do that much stuff for them like you seem to think I do. I don’t _think_ I’ve ever done anything dumb to get laid. Not like--remember Reese from L.A.? The one who went to SMASH?”

 

"Don't fucking remind me of him. Look, the reason you haven't done a lot of dumb shit is because you haven't had a _chance_ \--" Pause. "Right. I realize that sounds extremely pedantic and assholish and I'm going to try that again." Himuro briefly shuts his eyes. "I'm can _imagine_ all the stuff that can go wrong, and all the dumb stuff that could get you into trouble, and I really don't want that to happen to you--not when you've got so much going for you." 

 

Kagami surprises them both by taking a sudden step forward, grabbing Himuro in a hug so tight it’s a little crushing. “I’m really grateful to you, asshole,” he says, muffled against Himuro’s coat. “No one else looks out for me like this.”

 

Then he pulls back, hands tugging on the open ends of Himuro’s coat, and looks him in the eye. “But you’ve got to stop, okay? I’m good. I swear. I’m better than I’ve ever been.”

 

"…You're gonna get your ass _wrecked_ at this school," Himuro wearily groans, wiping a hand over his face in an attempt to keep his expression neutral. "How am I supposed to stop thinking about that? Just passing the exam is step one, you're going to have to keep your grades _up_ , and deal with that crazy team, and move _down here_ \--who's going to help you do all of that? I'm going to be 9 hours away." 

 

“Probably the same person who helped me move in to Tokyo and start school there without understanding enough kanji to write my name,” Kagami says seriously. “No one. I was okay then. This is _way_ easier a move. Dude, Rakuzan isn’t scary to me.”

 

"You're fucking nuts, though. You know that, right? Like, certifiable." Himuro's lips purse. "I guess you'll probably fit in. Their vice captain tried to recruit _me_ , for whatever reason." 

 

“Vice--oh. Mibuchi?” Kagami raises an eyebrow, and reaches out to poke Himuro’s neck. “That’s how they get you, man.”

 

Himuro slaps his hand away without even looking at it. "I don't know what you're talking about. I told him no." 

 

“If you came we’d probably fight all the time,” Kagami says, tossing his jacket over his shoulder. “And you have to babysit, right?”

 

"Nope." Himuro's shoulders heave in a faint shrug. "Atsushi's doing a study abroad. Don't be the one to mention it to your boyfriend, let someone else gossip about it. I'll just keep doing my time in Akita until the Catholic permeates to a cellular level." 

 

“Don’t do that. Your mom would be way too happy.”

 

"This isn't about _Deborah_ , Taiga." 

 

Kagami barks out a laugh, just as the train back to Tokyo pulls up, and he grabs in his pants pockets for his ticket. “Don’t drool if you fall asleep on my shoulder. You get so drooly.”

 

"That was just that one time," Himuro insists, stepping after him when the train rolls to a stop. "Speaking of sleep, any chance I can crash at your apartment when we get back to Tokyo?" Because that sounds so much nicer than spending the whole night on a train. 

 

“As long as you’re less handsy than Alex.” Kagami tosses his bag up onto the wire rack, then flops down into a Business Class seat, immediately reclining. “If I never see tits again, it’ll be too soon. How does that even _work_ in a basketball game?”

 

"…Sports bras. Sometimes a couple of them." Himuro looks at him as he settles down gingerly next to him, thoroughly amused. "You're so gay, it's embarrassing." 

 

Kagami grimaces. “Not my fault they’re weird. Why should I want to date someone with some, some weird fat bags full of water strapped to them? Where there should be muscle?” Kagami is pretty sure he understands boobs as well as anyone needs to.

 

"Taiga, what the hell. Boobs aren't like bags of water." It's hard not to start laughing, but he sure as hell _tries_. "They're pretty nice to touch, actually. Like, yeah, they're soft, but that's a good thing." 

 

“Bleh. They _look_ like they’re filled with water.” Kagami vaguely remembers having other conversations like this with Himuro, back when neither of them had touched any. “I dunno, it’s weird. What are you supposed to _do_ with them? When they’re, like, staring at you?”

 

"The same thing you do with a guy's chest when it's staring at you," Himuro deadpans. "You fucking play with it." 

 

“That’s not the same at _all_! You can’t move a guy’s chest _around_ , it stays put like it’s supposed to. What if you accidentally burst one? Or pull it off?”

 

"Taiga, that is not how human anatomy works at _all_. Look, I know we're surrounded by guys with like, _zero_ asses in Japan, but it's just like grabbing the butt of someone that has a little bit more squish. Like your ex." 

 

Kagami opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it. “He got rid of it,” he says with a sigh. “And I liked it a lot, too. Okay. Okay. I still think boobs are scary. But okay.”

 

"Yeah, muscle butt is the fate of a guy that likes jocks," Himuro dryly says, patting Kagami's shoulder sympathetically. "Boobs are boobs, they're squishier and that's it. Don't be so gay that you can't function." 

 

Kagami growls, and shoves a thumb against a bright purple hickey on Himuro’s neck. “And I guess a _girl_ gave you that, huh? Mr. Straight Man?”

 

Himuro yelps before he can stop himself, and scowls, slapping his hand away again. "Yeah, maybe she did, what about it?" 

 

“Bullshit! You were at Rakuzan all day! You told me you spent it with Mibuchi!”

 

Himuro's eyelashes flutter. "Did I say that? I don't remember." 

 

“You did! You totally did!” Kagami narrows his eyes. “Unless that was a cover-up. Are you _dating_ someone? Is that why you really came down to Kyoto?”

 

"Give me a break, Taiga. I came down here to see you, and make sure you were fine." 

 

“Nice job. And nice brand-new hickeys. You seriously think I’m just going to forget about them if you pretend they’re not there?”

 

"Now who's policing? You sound like a jealous boyfriend, what's up with that?" 

 

“Oi, who kissed who today, huh? _Huh?_ You trying to _make_ me jealous?”

 

"I dunno, is it working? Seems like it's working. You're so _easy_ , Taiga." 

 

“Easy? _I’m_ not the one who--”

 

“Excuse me, sir,” the conductor says nervously, “but do you have your tickets? And may I ask you to please keep your voices down?”

 

Himuro snatches the ticket from Kagami's hold, handing it over. "So what, are we on a slut-shaming brigade today?" he viciously whispers when the conductor hurriedly drifts away. "Maybe girls in Kyoto are easy, you don't know--well, heh, I'd say that, but from what you told me about how you first hooked up with your recent _acquisition_ \--"

 

“He’s not an acquisition! Don’t call him that!” Kagami glares, and puts the stamped ticket back in his pocket. Himuro is a lot better at talking quietly on trains than he is, but _he’s_ better at not being embarrassed about it. “Dude, what’s the _point_ , you said you were over casual sex!”

 

"Yeah, which means I haven't gotten laid in about a goddamn year," Himuro snaps irritably. "What, am I not allowed to change my mind?" 

 

Kagami shrugs, and stops looking at Himuro, staring out the quickly-moving landscape instead. “Just seems weird. That it’s the day you kissed me that broke your streak.”

 

"I don't even know remotely what you're trying to imply." 

 

Kagami huffs out a breath. “I dunno. Forget it.”

 

Himuro kicks at his ankle. "No, now you're being an idiot. Just fucking say it."

 

Kagami glares, then sets his jaw. “Fine. I think you’re either playing a weird game about trying to make me move to Akita, or you’re hung up on me more than you say.”

 

"…You're really bad at this," Himuro says after a slow exhale, staring up at the ceiling of the train briefly. "Taiga. I'm sorry, but I'm really not into you like that." 

 

Kagami doesn’t back down, doesn’t let the old hurt resurface no matter how it tries to, wants to ache in his chest so hard he curls up around it in a protective ball. “Okay. Then give me your version, because at least mine makes sense.”

 

"I already told you why I kissed you. So…what? You want to know specifics about why I hooked up with someone?" Himuro shrugs again, annoyed and dismissive. "Because I felt like it. You're looking too far into this." 

 

“Whatever.” It’s hard for Kagami to summon the same anger he had felt when all he feels now is tired. “If you’re gonna be weird, I’ll just sleep the whole way home. I’m just--all I’m gonna say is that it’s weird that the first day you kissed me in years was also the first day you hooked up with some random person in over a year.”

 

"I'm going to stomp on your stupid face, it was coincidence, fuck," Himuro snaps, barely resisting the urge to kick him again. "If I tell you who it really was, will you be cool?" 

 

“You don’t have to do that.” Kagami folds his arms, leaning against the window. “Like you said. I’m not policing you, Tatsuya. It just--it felt weird to me, but if you say it’s, not then fine.”

 

"Then take my word for it and believe me when I say we literally spent 75% of the time bitching and stressing about you and your weirdo boyfriend. The sex just kind of was secondary." But fucking fantastic. "I--yeah. It was Mibuchi, it was." 

 

Kagami rolls his eyes. “Why didn’t you just say so? Dumbass. I wouldn’t have been weirded out if I knew it was that guy.”

 

"Because I don't like people knowing who I'm fucking," Himuro crossly retorts. "Did you seriously think I was dating someone, what the hell."

 

“No one else thinks dating is strange but you, you know. Most people would think that was the normal thing!”

 

"I don't think dating is _strange_ , I just know I'm not into it. You're the one that's weird about it, dating a new guy the second you dump the last one." 

 

Kagami grimaces. “Before, actually. Yeah, point taken. I don’t know...it’s nice.” His voice gets a little softer, a little less energetic. “To have the person you like like you back. Twice in a row, even, even if one of them didn’t last.”

 

Himuro gently kicks at Kagami's leg again. "You know, you're pretty aggressively likable. Just because I'm not into you like that doesn't mean a million other guys aren't going to think you're the man of their dreams." 

 

“Full of it!” Kagami snorts, kicking back this time. “You think you’re the first or only guy I ever had a boner for? God. Someone doesn’t remember Parker Brennan.”

 

"I'm the _standard_ , though, I get that," Himuro says unabashedly, and instead stretches out his legs this time to plop them right into Kagami's lap. "Let's be real, Taiga, you have a boner for everyone." 

 

“I just like men, okay?” Kagami does at least try to keep his voice down for that, knowing that it’s simple enough English that most people would be able to understand it. “I dunno, I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I just happen to know a hell of a lot of hot dudes.”

 

"I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Just don't keep traveling to the other ends of countries for them on a regular basis, that's all I'm asking." 

 

Kagami shrugs. “Eh. We’ll see. Depends how hot they are.” Pissing Himuro off is fun.

 

"I'm going to punch you in the dick." 

 

~

 

Finding out about Murasakibara's overseas exchange doesn't come as a shock, per say, but it does give Akashi a reason to be in Tokyo before the start of the new school year. 

 

It takes half a dozen nerves renewed to get on the phone with his father, explain the situation, and _firmly_ put his foot down about being able to invite Murasakibara down for a proper sending off. Perfect scores on all of his exams and otherwise good behavior is a good enough convincing argument for his father time around, who mostly seems bored by the idea, and it isn't as if Murasakibara's family hasn't been friends with his own for so many years, anyway. 

 

The location is inevitable, too, but with his father deciding that _this_ weekend isn't the weekend that he wants to give a damn, Akashi thinks little of it. 

 

"So, um--who brought the booze?" Kise cheerfully pipes up, the last to arrive at Kagami's apartment. "The usual?"

 

"Midorima-kun's stash is the best," Kuroko says with all of his wise years of drinking underneath his belt (very few, very infrequent, and very uneducated as they are). "He tells us this every time, Kise-kun." 

 

“What the hell do you all mean, the usual?” Kagami asks, trying to look cool rather than scandalized when Midorima produces a few bottles of obscure-looking alcohol with hand-lettered labels. “Didn’t you guys stop hanging out when you were, like, eleven?”

 

“Fourteen.” Aomine ruffles his hair as he walks by-- _I’m going to actually kill that bastard_ \--and swipes a bottle from Midorima’s hands. “Thaaanks. Oi, Tetsu, drink up. Been a while since we had the good stuff.”

 

Athletes, Kagami decides, must just operate under different rules than everyone else in Japan. Either that, or he’s stumbled onto some serious hooligans. “Fine, fine. Just--nobody drive or go anywhere.”

 

“Why would I go anywhere?” Murasakibara demands, plopped onto the couch and surrounded by snacks. “The food is _here_ , Kaga-chin.”

 

"Aomine-kun, please be gentle with me. It's been some time since I've really had a drink." 

 

Akashi is neatly folded up on the couch next to Murasakibara, more or less on constant snack sorting and finding duty. "Later in middle school was when we started to meet up like this," he supplies for Kagami's sake. "Usually, it was at Shintarou's, but that became increasingly less feasible." 

 

"Hey, Kagamicchi, are you going to cook anything?" Kise brightly asks, trotting over. "I'll help. My sisters have been _ragging_ on me lately, they say it's not cute for a guy to suck in the kitchen."

 

“Your sisters are right,” Midorima says haughtily, pushing up his glasses. “Incompetence is never attractive.”

 

“Mido-chin talks a big game for someone who can’t flip an okonomiyaki.”

 

“Idiot! I know the theory behind flipping the okonomiyaki pancake perfectly!”

 

Murasakibara crunches his way through a handful of chips. “Yeah. You can’t do it, though.”

 

Kagami grabs Kise, herding him into the kitchen. “Everyone’s gonna get hungry sooner or later. You know how to fold gyoza?”

 

"Shintarou, this is why you'll never achieve the results that you want." The snack bag pile is already growing. Akashi seems inordinately pleased by this regularity. "Theory only is valid if it works for that particular person." 

 

"Oh, I can do that, definitely!" Kise tosses his jacket over the back of a chair, rolling up his sleeves. "Sorry that you're having to play host for all of us--I'd do it, but, uh--"

 

"Kise-kun, literally no one wants you to do it," Kuroko tosses back into the kitchen. 

 

"So mean, Kurokocchi! Hey, did you guys hear?" Kise excitedly adds. "My single got a _remix!"_

 

The groan is collective and very, _very_ long. 

 

Kagami blinks as the entire apartment seems to fall into doom and gloom. “Huh? What single? What am I missing?”

 

“Oh god, not this shit again,” Midorima mutters.

 

“Kise, if you put it on,” Aomine warns, “I’ll kick your ass.”

 

“I’ll crush you,” Murasakibara adds.

 

Akashi twitches. "Ryouta, I'm asking nicely." 

 

"Kise-kun," Kuroko says, taking a long sip of his drink and cringing afterwards, " _please_ do not do this." 

 

Kise seems to not even hear the protests. "So you guys haven't heard it? Okay! Hey, Kagamicchi, can I plug my iPod in somewhere real quick?" 

 

"Kagami-kun, don't let him do it." 

 

Kagami ignores the pleading, and plugs Kise’s iPod into the speaker system. “Sorry, guys. I literally have to hear this.”

 

“You are absolutely going to regret this,” Midorima says, unabashedly fishing out his headphones.

 

Akashi leans over to snatch them out of Midorima's hands. "We're going to suffer this all together." 

 

Kise is fairly useless at _not_ humming along to his own song--but he does, at least for the first verse, refrain from singing along to the _Shala--lala!_ parts, just to make sure Kagami can hear them. "Now, this is the remix, but I think it's way cuter than the original. That one came out when I was in middle school," he explains. "Apparently, it got popular on NicoNico recently, and so my agent wanted to know about remixes--and here we are!"

 

"Here we are," Kuroko agrees gloomily, cuddling his drink to his chest. 

 

Kagami stares around the room, looking incredulously at the rest of them. “You guys have seriously all heard this song? This is a real thing?” 

 

_Shalala--lala!_

 

“Shalala isn’t something you can escape,” Aomine says with a groan. Then he pauses, and adds, “The remix _is_ better than the original.”

 

“Se-chin, if this gets stuck in my head, I’ll crush you.”

 

"Thanks, Aominecchi! I think so, too!" Kise beams warily at Murasakibara. "I think it's kinda programmed to get stuck in people's heads, though?" 

 

"Alcohol," Akashi declares underneath his breath, grabbing for one of the bottles Midorima has stashed near him. 

 

Kagami still isn’t entirely sure that this is real life. He stares around at the rest of them, but fails to see any humor on anyone’s face but Kise’s, idiotically beaming. “So this is seriously a real thing.”

 

“Kaga-chin is stupid tonight. Shalala makes people stupid.”

 

"It's totally a real thing. Kagamicchi, come on, isn't it cool?" Kise huffs, folding his arms over his chest. "I'm in the top 20 on the Oricon charts right now. That's _huge_. It's so lucky that I'm moving back to Tokyo already, it would be rough if this had happened into the next school year." 

 

"Good luck putting up with that every single day of the week," Akashi says to Midorima, and pours himself a glass, plus a second one. "Atsushi, drink with me." 

 

Kuroko's glass hits the table with resounding ferocity, very much empty, which is suspect. "I'm not drunk yet," he announces. " _Yet._ " 

 

Aomine fills that glass again, then swigs from the bottle. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll fix that. Heh, I haven’t seen you drunk in years.”

 

“Mix it with something sweet,” Murasakibara complains. “I hate the way it tastes normally.”

 

Kagami listens to the end of the song, then flips off the music. “Come on, Mr. Big Star. Gyoza won’t shalala themselves closed.”

 

"You're going to need to learn to drink it straight at some point," Akashi lightly chides, but nevertheless reaches for the bottle of soda brought over for that sole purpose. 

 

"Aomine-kun," Kuroko says, staring intently at him. "Please do not drink directly from the bottle. Drink directly from my mouth."

 

"It begins," Akashi exhales, passing Murasakibara the properly sweetened drink.

 

"Hehh, I like it when Kagamicchi calls me a Big Star." Whoops, too much of a slip? No, it's fine, not even a blip on the radar, apparently, but Kise visibly reels himself in with a smile. 

 

A small frown appears on Kagami’s face, and he pulls Kise aside into the kitchen, far enough away that they can talk easily under the sound of the music Murasakibara is putting on, which he has to admit sounds pretty cool. “Hey. Kise, did I do something to you or something?”

 

"Huh?" Kise blinks hard, and the smile turns nervous as he waves a dismissive hand. "No way, not at all, we're cool. Everything is fine." He's the world shittiest liar when he actually gives a damn about something. Realizing this, Kise exhales a light sigh, his hands on his hips as he looks to the side. "It's just--uh. How to put this. I don't want to get _eaten._ " 

 

“I’m not gonna _hurt_ you.” Kagami tries not to sound a little wounded by that, and is afraid he fails. He quickly sticks his hands into the pork mixture--nothing like having his hands full of meat to assuage his masculinity--and starts mixing. “I thought you already knew. About me. I won’t touch you or anything, fuck.”

 

"W…okay, I don't think we're on the same page. I really like flirting with you, it's fun. I don't think _you're_ going to do anything about it, nor would I like…really care if you did, to be real." Kise spares a wary glance back over his shoulder, thankful that no one is paying them any attention, and even Midorima has a glass of alcohol to cuddle up to now. "But you're dating Akashicchi, right? That's what I'm talking about when I say I don't want to get eaten." 

 

“....Oh.” Kagami’s cheeks flush a little, and he looks down at his gyoza mixture, adding another dash of soy sauce just to be safe. “I guess I get that. Sorry for assuming the worst. I just didn’t know why you suddenly stopped being all friendly.”

 

"Because I'm pretty sure he's gonna eat me!" Kise hisses out underneath his breath, scooting closer and nudging up against Kagami's shoulder. "He's so scary! He just stares at me and I'm scared, what the hell! I think if he saw me really flirting with you, he'd ankle break me off a balcony or something--like, 'haha, guess who really has broken ankles now, _Ryouta?_ ' That kind of thing!" 

 

“He wouldn’t do that.” Kagami pokes Kise in the gut, rolling his eyes. “Because that’s stupid. Who the hell would think of you as a threat, dumbass? He knows I’m...that we’re...” His face is _so_ red that Kagami avoids looking at a mirror, bending over the gyoza wrappers instead.

 

"Kagamicchi, that's rude. I'm a threat. A triple threat! Hah, I told my agent that was a basketball thing and she just rolled her eyes at me, but I thought it was clever." Kise pauses, and leans closer, grinning. "You're _so_ red, Kagamicchi. You know, even if I think he's scary, I still think it's kinda cute, especially when you're like this. That's the other reason why I backed off, I don't want to screw anything up for you guys." 

 

Kagami knocks his shoulder against Kise’s. “I’m _not_ that red, shut up! You know what, who even wants your flirting? Just help me put these fucking gyoza together.”

 

“We should do karaoke,” Midorima announces suddenly.

 

"I _love_ karaoke!" Kise tosses back into the living room, but dutifully begins the task of folding up gyoza. 

 

"Midorima-kun," Kuroko says, his eyes wide, "do not suggest karaoke when you won't _ever_ do it yourself. I know how you are." 

 

“Kuroko is mean,” Midorima says, as if he’s just realized something insulting for the first time. “I don’t think, I don’t think we talk enough about how mean Kuroko is. Akashi. Did you know about this? Aomine?”

 

“I know,” Aomine teases, sitting on Kuroko’s lap. “We’ve been a thing for years and he still calls me by my last name. What an asshole.”

 

“Kuro-chin is rude. But it’s funny.”

 

"This is why I like Murasakibara-kun. _He_ thinks I'm funny." Kuroko downs back the last of his second glass, and it hits the floor, somewhere, before he shoves his face into Aomine's back. "Aoommmiinnee-kun. Midorima-kun would do karaoke with us if his _boyfriend_ was here." 

 

"It is surprising to see you without your growth, Shintarou," Akashi can't help but agree, and sways himself to the side to land lightly against Murasakibara. "What's up with that? Why can't you get rid of him?" 

 

“I obviously can! Since he’s not here! Honestly, I don’t need to be with him all the time. I’m not _clingy_.” Midorima pulls out his phone, sees a single text from Takao -- **Hope ur having fun! ;)** \--and promptly bursts into tears.

 

“Yeah, this’ll be fun,” Kagami says under his breath.

 

“Mido-chin is really gay.”

 

"Stop being such a lightweight, Shintarou," Akashi immediately demands, throwing an empty snack bag at him. "Get it together."

 

Kuroko starts giggling. Not like, loudly, or frequently, but it's enough that he has to start clinging to Aomine when he does it because he otherwise starts to tip over. 

 

"This is pretty par for the course," Kise whispers back. "I mean, it's kinda nice, actually? We haven't all been this chill with one another for a really long time."

 

"I heard a rumor," Kuroko suddenly declares, sitting upright. "About Momoi-san." 

 

"Shit," Kise mutters. 

 

“Tetsu,” Aomine warns, shifting on Kuroko’s lap to loom over him, “if you spread rumors about Satsuki, I won’t show any mercy.” He pauses, takes a drink from the bottle, then asks, “It’s the thongs, right? I _might_ be able to confirm or deny that one.”

 

“Do we _have_ to talk about girls?” Kagami asks under his breath, taking over for Kise on the gyoza as he doesn’t seem to be doing a very good job of it. 

 

“He sends me the smiley face with one comma eye. That’s how you know he’s _cute_ ,” Midorima says insistently, showing Akashi his phone.

 

"Why does that make it cute?" Akashi mutters, listing forward to stare at the phone intently. "It's literally just a semicolon and you know that. Your standards are skewed, Shintarou." 

 

Kise plasters himself to Kagami's side all the same when Kuroko says to Aomine, calmly and without any warning, "It's a rumor about who she's _dating_." 

 

There's a long, weighted pause before it's Akashi who says, matter-of-factly, "We obviously have to beat them up."

 

"Stop," Kuroko says, holding up one hand. "Stop saying anything good. It might make me like you again. But I mean it. That's the rumor. Aomine-kun, take off your shirt." 

 

Aomine strips off his shirt in an instant, grinning around at the room as if daring them not to find him attractive. “Want me to flex too?”

 

“I hate that guy,” Kagami mutters. “Oi, Kise, why are you trying to get under my apron?”

 

“Semicolons are _adorable_ ,” Midorima insists. “Look, it can be used to create a face that is winking with secret knowledge!”

 

"Haha, why would I be trying to hide under your apron? Everything's fine!"

 

"Not…yet," Kuroko slowly says, his hands immediately dragging down Aomine's back and sides, because _nice_. "Maybe. I still have a point to make about Momoi-san." 

 

"There's nothing that your _growth_ has that's secret knowledge, _Shintarou_ ," Akashi snips in retort, "and certainly nothing that a semicolon can help with!" 

 

Midorima knocks a book off of the coffee table with some degree of deliberation, and glares at Akashi. “ _You_ , Akashi Seijuurou, are just upset because your acquisition can’t even text right in Japanese! Nephew!”

 

“It’s autocorrect,” Kagami protests. “I know that’s not his name!”

 

Aomine’s hand lands heavy on Kuroko’s head. “What. What about Satsuki? I’ll kill him.”

 

"You know what's a million times more offensive than autocorrect? Throwing condoms at me _literally_ every time you've seen me over the past month! What is that even meant to imply, Midorima Shintarou?" 

 

"Why do they always use full names when they're angry with each other?" Kise groans.

 

Kise rocks underneath Aomine's hold, staring up at him with somewhat glazed eyes, and says very calmly: "It's Kise-kun." 

 

"Kurokocchi!" 

 

"The fact you were hiding this means that you are aware you are doing wrong. Fess up." 

 

Aomine falls off of Kuroko’s lap, hitting the floor with a heavy thud that is absolutely going to get Kagami in trouble with his downstairs neighbors later. He recovers quickly, getting to his feet to stare waveringly at Kise over the counter. “You. The fuck. You. C’mere.”

 

“Condoms promote safe sex! I’m trying to save your _life!_ Do you have any idea of the diseases you could carry?”

 

Kise slinks back a few more steps, smiling brightly. "Aominecchi, what's up? Why are you…listen, you know, Momoicchi can really date whoever she wants, it's cool that way." 

 

"That's not the point! You give me a new box literally every weekend! Do you have any idea how many condoms are in a box?"

 

“No. No. She can’t date you.” 

 

Kagami frowns, and intersperses himself between the two of them, which is totally _not_ like a dream he’s had a dozen or more times. “Pretty sure she can, Aomine. Don’t fight in my kitchen.”

 

“Twenty-four. Why. Do you need more?”

 

"How can you even ask that? Why would I need more than twenty-four condoms in a _week?_ How many do _you_ go through?"

 

Kise's laugh is somewhat nervous. "Aominecchi, we're already dating, you know." 

 

"Kick his butt, Aomine-kun."

 

"No! Kurokocchi, don't tell him to do that!" 

 

Kuroko stares wide-eyed into the kitchen. " _Kick his butt_ , Aomine-kun." 

 

Aomine swaggers forward, and Kagami makes full use of his own entirely sober state, shoving Aomine back hard onto Kuroko’s lap. “You fight in my kitchen, I start throwing punches. _Not_ in my kitchen.”

 

Aomine narrows his eyes. “Bring Kise out here, then. I’m gonna, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

 

“No. He’s cooking. Kise, you better have some goddamn gyoza folded.”

 

Midorima looks askance at Akashi. “You know, you’re supposed to use them _every time_. We go through a box in a weekend sometimes.”

 

"I'm folding gyoza, I'm totally folding gyoza!" He is now, at any rate. "Aominecchi, what's the big deal? You know I'm gonna be nice to her, it's _Momoicchi_." 

 

"Kise-kun is rarely nice," Kuroko darkly says, and shoves his face into Aomine's chest. "You smell good, Aomine-kun."

 

"…How can you _possibly_ go through a box in a weekend. That's ridiculous." Akashi huffs, and promptly downs back what is left in his glass. He wobbles, but recovers quickly and snatches up the bottle of alcohol to refill. "We use them _most_ of the time." 

 

“Well. There _are_ two of us,” Midorima points out, not entirely sure how Akashi is missing this. “Wait. Most of the time? Akashi! Do you _want_ gnonnhorea? Do you even know what it can _do_ to you?”

 

Kagami makes a face at the thundering declaration that he has STDs coming from Midorima and Akashi’s corner, and decides to ignore it. “You have to pinch them together tightly, or they’ll burst. Seriously, _Momoi?_ I mean, she’s cute.” He thinks.

 

“You’re a dead man if you put that dick of yours anywhere near her,” Aomine threatens, swaying a little.

 

"She's so cute," Kise confirms in a grumble, and whips around to glower in Aomine's direction, close to having enough of this. "Aominecchi, be nice about my dick! _You_ like it!" 

 

"Aomine-kun is being a lightweight today," Kuroko notes, everything about Kise forgotten as he starts petting Aomine's back. "Did you…did you eat? Aomine-kun. Aomine-kun, you have to take care of yourself."

 

"Listen up, _Shintarou_. I'm not an idiot. I'm very well aware of the risks, but I am also _informed_ about sexual history. Therefore, I'm _fine._ "

 

“In _what_ way are you fine?” Midorima demands, standing up and then sitting promptly back down. “No. No, you are not fine. Because _Kagami_ has had sex with _Kuroko_ , who has had sex with _Aomine_ , who is a probable host of diseases in his own right--”

 

“Oi,” Aomine mutters, starting to take notice of the bullshit unfolding. “I’m not a host of anything.”

 

“--not to mention that this puts you in direct line of contact with _Kise_ , who might as well be a used condom you found in the street!”

 

Murasakibara crunches a chip. “Heh.”

 

Kagami turns to Kise, quizzical. “You and Aomine? Seriously?”

 

Kise shrugs helplessly as he attempts to _tightly_ press gyoza wrappers and not get killed. At least the conversation isn't about _him_ anymore, not directly. "Look at him, man. Midorimacchi, you're so mean, I _always_ use condoms!"

 

"Aomine isn't a host of diseases," Akashi defensively shoots back. "He told me himself when I asked, he always uses condoms unless it's with Kuroko." 

 

Kuroko nods slowly. "I'm special." 

 

“Condoms are only ninety-seven percent effective _when used correctly! Look_ at Aomine--do you really think he’s smart and careful enough to use them every time?”

 

“One fell off inside a girl once,” Aomine says with a shrug. “I mean, I put another one on.”

 

Midorima makes a noise like a kettle about to boil. “Painful urination! Cloudy pus-like discharge! Testicular pain! Burning during urination or intercourse!”

 

“Have you ever wanted to throw someone off a balcony so much?” Kagami asks Kise conversationally, trying not to think of him and Aomine fucking hard and sweaty, whoops.

 

"Oh, like all the time," Kise cheerfully says, and starts humming as he continues his gyoza-folding adventures. "K-I-S-E, shala--lala!" 

 

Akashi takes a slow sip of his drink, staring Midorima down. "Do you still have that little laminated card in your back pocket for sex education speeches, or did you throw it away in favor of keeping an extra box of 24 condoms for the weekend there?" 

 

Kagami start heating up a pan. “You know, you’re saying that wrong. It’s ‘ess.’ Not ‘essu.’”

 

“I don’t need the laminated card anymore, _Akashi_. I memorized it! Symptoms of _gonorrhea_ include thick, cloudy, or bloody discharge from the penis, painful, swollen testicles, painful bowel mov--”

 

Murasakibara throws a pillow that hits Midorima precisely in the face. “Shut up, Mido-chin. You’re making my maibo taste gross.”

 

"Oh, I have more of those for you," Akashi says, as if that's a _very_ logical step in the right direction of fixing that problem. 

 

"Eh? What do you mean, I'm saying it wrong? It's totally 'essu', my agent says it's cute!"

 

"Aomine-kun…Aomine-kun. _Give_ me your shirt."

 

Aomine tosses Kuroko his shirt, then starts flexing. “Yeah. Yeah. You like that. Yeah, look at that. Heh.”

 

Kagami loses his train of thought for a moment, watching Aomine flex. Then he shakes his head, and tosses the gyoza into the hot pan. “Leave off the ‘u’ at the end, idiot. That’s how you do it in English.”

 

“Aka-chin could give me _more_ snacks.”

 

“I’m calling Takao. Yes. Takao. Tell me you don’t have any diseases. You know I like hearing that.”

 

"Ehhh? But it's not cute that way! It's totally not cute, Kagamicchi. You think I'm cute, I know you do." Kise grins, giving Kagami a light nudge as he drops his voice. "Seriously, why didn't you hop _on that?_ "

 

Kuroko seems less interested in the flexing, more interested in flopping down with Aomine's shirt over his face, and Akashi pulls out a bag that's full to the brim of nothing but maibo. "I can go get you more if you want them." Pause. "But not _right_ now, because I'm kind of tipsy. Atsushi. Atsushi, I'm sorry." 

 

“It’s okay, Aka-chin. Kaga-chin’s food smells good so I’m gonna eat a lot.” Murasakibara blinks slowly. “You gotta visit me in France.”

 

“What...on you?” Kagami asks, shuffling closer so as not to be overheard. He shrugs. “Didn’t think you were serious.”

 

"No, dumbass, on Aominecchi and Kurokocchi's idea! Man, even if it was just one threesome, I'd be so there…" Kise trails off, wistful. "I mean, you could have hopped on me, too, haha, but _seriously_." 

 

"I can't visit you in France, Atsushi. I'm sorry for that, too. And everything." Akashi flops into his side. "I'm _usually_ sorry." 

 

“Aka-chin, no. Aka-chin is _good_. Aka-chin, come let me cuddle you.”

 

Kagami spares a glance from Midorima, curled up and crying in the corner with his phone, to Kuroko and Aomine, currently exchanging tongues. “I dunno. Didn’t want to get in the way of their little reunion honeymoon. I hate being the third wheel, man. Plus...” he shrugs. “Got my pride. They didn’t ask.”

 

"That's fair enough," Kise lowly agrees, heaving a sigh as he spares another glance back at them. "They're kinda in their own world, aren't they? Man, it really is like second year of Teiko all over again. It'd be nice to have a relationship where you can break up, and pick up where you left off like that." 

 

"Atsushiiii." Akashi is making a nest out of Murasakibara's lap now, and courtesy of his incessant wrapper sorting, it is not as cluttered as one would think. "When you get back from France," he says, serious and firm even as he butts his head against Murasakibara's shoulder. "You. Need to come down to Rakuzan. Please. I will be _so_ nice." 

 

“I dunno. I’d rather have a relationship where we didn’t break up at all,” Kagami says honestly. “Breakups suck. Seriously... _Momoi?_ How the hell did you convince her?”

 

Murasakibara pets Akashi’s head. “Maybe if you do a whole year without going Boku.”

 

"It's already been so many months. Atsushi, I'm sorry. I'm really, _really_ sorry."

 

"Convince her? Like I had to convince her, I just asked her out and she said yes." Kise shrugs before adding wryly, "It was a lot easier because Aominecchi and Kurokocchi were dating again. Maybe Kurokocchi let her down gently, but she was pretty ready, gotta say. I dunno, she's _fun_. Most girls are awful to deal with." 

 

“It’s been like _two_ months, Aka-chin. Did you get amnesia again?”

 

Kagami tries not to make a face, and fails. “I dunno, to each his own, I guess. I mean, she’s cute, if you like boobs.” He hears himself, and sighs. “Tatsuya’s right, I’m so fucking gay.”

 

Akashi's head tilts to the side in thought before he settles for nudging his head back up into Murasakibara's hand, slowly and methodically nuzzling. "Maybe. Two sounds like so many."

 

Kise barely stifles a laugh, and gives Kagami a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. "I mean, at least you're surrounded by hot guys?" he cheerfully attempts. "I dunno, girls are cute, guys are cute, what's it matter? I can't imagine _dating_ a guy, but to each his own…" 

 

“I can’t imagine dating a girl, so I guess we’re even.” Kagami pulls off his gyoza, looks around the room, and sighs. “Then again, my boyfriend is spooning with Murasakibara, so what do I know? You comfy over there, Seijuurou?” he calls, only slightly irritated.

 

"I _love_ Atsushi," is the muffled response when Akashi stuffs his face into Murasakibara's neck. 

 

"That's pretty standard," Kise wryly tells him. "So is Midorimacchi crying in a corner." 

 

“They’re not gonna start making out, are they?” Kagami asks, trying not to sound annoyed when he really sort of is. “Is this another tragic love story of the generation of miracles? Who’s next, you and Midorima?”

 

Kise looks absolutely terrified at that idea. "God, no. Like, he's hot? But not my type at _all_ , so awkward! Uh, those two, though--" He shrugs, sparing another glance back. "Super pure, I think? Well, for now. Nah, you'd need to _worry_ if our previous captain was back in town, Aominecchi used to tell me _stories_ \--"

 

Kuroko comes up for air, looking about as rumpled as he usually does when rolling out of bed. "Aomine-kun," he mutters, then looks across the room, jabbing a finger in Midorima's direction. "Warui-kun." 

 

Midorima looks up through tear-reddened eyes. “Huh?”

 

Kagami narrows his eyes at the mention of yet _another_ dude to look out for, but ignores it for now. “Where is this old captain now? And what the hell is Kuroko doing?”

 

"Just ignore him, haha. Umm, I _think_ Nijimura-sempai went to America, his dad was sick and stuff. Dude, I can tell you _stories_." 

 

Kuroko nods sagely. "Warui-kun," he repeats, and then his gaze snaps around to Akashi. " _Mazui_ -kun." 

 

"Wh--"

 

"Kimoi-kun," is the accusation in Kise's direction. 

 

"So mean, Kurokocchi!" 

 

"….Murasakibara-kun." 

 

“Yaaaay, I got a real name!” Murasakibara looks entirely pleased with himself for what Kagami _thinks_ is being allowed to keep his own name, for whatever reason. 

 

Kagami blinks, and looks over at Kuroko. “So? Who am I?”

 

Kuroko darkly glares at him. "You wait your turn."

 

"Wait your turn, Kagamicchi," Kise hisses.

 

Kuroko's attention turns back to Aomine-kun, because he has an order to keep track of, obviously. "Aomine-kun," he declares, and _then_ he looks back to Kagami. "……………………………….Komuggi." 

 

Kuroko clearly thinks this is the most hilarious one of them all, and topples sideways, giggling uncontrollably. 

 

Kise sighs, shrugging. "Really thought you were gonna get a real name. Sorry about it." 

 

“What the hell are you sorry about?” Kagami demands, looking around the room at everyone either devastated or elated by their new names. “Is that--is that a bad thing?” It’s obviously a bad thing. “Oi. Kuroko. We dated for like four months, at least get my damn name right.”

 

“No use, Kagami,” Midorima says morosely. “You’re Komuggi now.”

 

“Haha,” Murasakibara gloats.

 

"Komuggi," Kuroko states again, and explodes into giggling anew. 

 

"Why did Murasakibaracchi get one and I didn't?" Kise complains. "He always tries to crush you and stuff, I'm nice!"

 

"Shut up, Kimoi-kun," is Akashi's dark snap from over the back of the couch. "Let Atsushi keep what is his." 

 

"I'm not gross, though!"

 

“We don’t have to go by these for the whole night or something, do we?” Kagami asks uncertainly. “I mean...whatever, there’s food if anyone wants it.” _He_ does. Dealing with his ex and his ex’s current and his own boyfriend who is cuddling up to someone else is giving him a headache worse than just having a bunch of randomly drunk guys invading his space. He takes a plate of gyoza for himself, then abruptly leaves the room, walking out to eat on the balcony.

 

Kise grimaces, knowing full well what a room of Teiko's former stars can do to someone if they aren't, uh, fully accustomed to it and all of their inside jokes and games and weird inter-personal relationships. He's lived that life, and it's _not_ fun. "Riiight, you're all going to start to eat something, and sober up, just a little, okay?" 

 

Passing around plates of gyoza is the first step, and the second is overcoming the intense fear of tapping Akashi on the shoulder. "Um, Akashicchi? You might wanna go check on Kagamicchi." 

 

"Ah." Akashi heaves himself upright, blinking. "Where?" 

 

"Balcony? Please don't fall off of it…hey, guys, let's talk about dream match-ups! Oi, Midorimacchi, stop crying, put your boyfriend on speaker phone if you're gonna keep trying to call him!" 

 

Akashi stumbles his way off the couch, but is much more put together once he's on his feet and actually moving. "Taiga," he says, very deliberately, and flops against the balcony railing. "Everyone is awful, sorry." 

 

Kagami looks out at Tokyo’s night sky, his gyoza untouched on the plate, sitting on the balcony. “You should go back in there. It’s the farewell party for your best friend, right?”

 

"…In hindsight, I probably should have just tried to visit him in Akita and called it a day." Akashi wipes a hand over his face, wishing it were easier to shake himself into sobriety. "But he probably wouldn't have seen me, without everyone else around. Just being able to pretend everything's normal for five seconds, though…" He trails off, shrugging helplessly. "Sorry. This was really selfish of me, I didn't think." 

 

Kagami grabs Akashi’s shoulder and squeezes it, then takes a gyoza and pops it into his mouth. “It’s fine, right? You guys are just a little much for me all together for a long period of time, so I’m taking a minute.” He pauses, then adds, “Besides, if you and him get like _this_ together, I’m not sure I want you to go up to Akita and be alone with him.”

 

Akashi blinks, slowly chewing, and eventually swallows. "But we've always been like this around one another, we've known each other since we were born." 

 

“You didn’t tell me that.” Kagami takes one for himself, then passes another over to Akashi. “You’ve rarely even mentioned him. Then all of a sudden you were laying on him. I dunno, it’s weird.” _And I didn’t need another reminder that you’re all so much better suited to each other than any of you is to me. Not with_ them _here tonight._

 

"I've mentioned him," Akashi defensively murmurs, taking the gyoza dutifully. "I…hm. I suppose talking about him recently has been awkward. He hasn't wanted to talk to me." He bites the gyoza in half, and eventually says, "You don't have a reason to be jealous. I missed that boat, and that's fine. He's just a very close friend." 

 

“Anyone in there you _didn’t_ want to date?” Kagami isn’t entirely fond of the sound of his own voice right now, or of the heat creeping up the back of his neck. “You missed that boat, and apparently you dated Midorima without telling me about it too, and you had some old captain that you wanted--anyone else that everyone knew about but me?”

 

"…Who even _told_ you about all of that?" is Akashi's startled reply, sobriety crashing over him like a very cold, unpleasant wave. "I wasn't aware you wanted every single detail about who I've been remotely _interested_ in, but if that's the case, fine, where shall I start?" 

 

“How about just with the ones that you still cuddle up to?” This is stupid, Kagami _knows_ it’s stupid, but can’t shake the feeling that he’s going to go out with Akashi some evening and hear, _Do you mind, Taiga? I’m going home with Atsushi instead this evening._ “No, better yet--how about the ones you’d still go after if they’d have you? Just the ones you’d rather be with than me.”

 

"I--" The struggle to keep his face impassive and not flush hot in a mix of startled embarrassment and genuine _confusion_ begins. Ugh. Flashbacks of middle school and Midorima telling him that he's _embarrassingly obvious_ come to mind, and Akashi's gaze whips away so that he can stare into the Tokyo skyline instead. That made _sense_ when he was twelve and having gay panic, but _now?_ Now it's just confusing. "I'm not interested in being with anyone else right now, and I'm not sure what gave you that impression." 

 

“I dunno. Maybe being told how lucky I am that I showed up after your old captain was gone, because then I’d need to worry. Or seeing you laying on top of someone I had no idea you were really close with, and hearing you say you missed the boat there--why, because he’s going to France? I--”

 

Kagami ignores the rest of the gyoza, clenching his hands into fists, looking out over the balcony. “I don’t want to be just a way to pass time until the one you want is available again. Been there, done that.”

 

Akashi falls silent, and slowly folds his arms up against his chest, defense against the slow, chilly breeze sweeping over the balcony as much as for his own peace of mind. "If you really think I'm just trying to pass the time with you, then I don't know what to say to change your mind," he eventually, quietly settles upon. "But I 'missed the boat' with Atsushi in middle school, after I was awful to him and treated him like a disposable piece on a board. We're never going to be the same kind of friend again, let alone date, and the latter isn't even something remotely on my mind. I just want him to be able to look at me again. Being drunk helped." 

 

He slowly scuffs his toe against the concrete. "Shintarou and I dated for three months, kissed twice, failed miserably at acting like boyfriends, and vowed to not talk about it ever again. He's my best friend--or _was_ , because I've been replaced by someone much better at not stepping on his emotions. Remembering it makes me feel sick.

 

"And Nijimura-san--" Akashi shrugs slowly. "Attractive and good at basketball and nice to me, and very, very straight. I don't know who told you something would happen there, but they're wrong." His breath escapes in a slow, uneven exhale. "None of them are _available_ , Taiga. Even if they were, I don't want them, nor do I relish the idea of coming back into their lives and fucking it all up again when I have someone that I haven't completely messed up yet." 

 

Kagami’s stomach twists, and his heart sinks further and further with each word, making him feel like the kind of person who would rip the wings off a struggling insect. “Sorry,” he mutters, not wanting to meet Akashi’s eyes just yet. “I shouldn’t have said that stuff. I just...”

 

He rubs his face, gritting his teeth. “It’s hard to be from the outside looking in. I keep messing up. I’ll think two of you are close, and it turns out you hate each other. I’ll think two of you are rivals, and then all of a sudden you’re best friends and kinda sort of in love. Hell, I thought Kise was straight until like twenty minutes ago, and now I don’t know what to think. I just...”

 

He reaches out, fisting a hand in Akashi’s sleeve, swallowing hard. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t know how to not fuck it up. I...I told myself that this time I wasn’t gonna let go without a fight, but I don’t even know who I’m supposed to fight.”

 

"You think _you_ don't know how to not fuck something up." The alcohol is definitely still floating around in there somewhere if he's being this rude and forward. "God. You didn't even do anything _wrong_ with Kuroko. Aomine and him--they're inevitable, they've _always_ been inevitable, and if I had known you before, I would have told you that so you would have stayed away." 

 

Akashi huffs out a breath, staring down at the ground. "You're not messing up anything. Everyone likes you, they just forget you weren't there in middle school. Just relax already, no one here is going to fight you for me." 

 

Kagami grabs Akashi suddenly, pulling him to his chest, burying his face in soft red hair as he squeezes. “Even if they did. I’d do it. I don’t care who it is. I’ll fight your dad, I’ll fight Murasakibara, I don’t _care_. I love you.”

 

" _Please_ don't fight any of them," is the muffled groan into Kagami's chest. Akashi's hands come to cling to Kagami's shirt as he presses himself close. "Sorry. I'm sorry about all of this. Every time we've seen each other lately, it's been _something_." 

 

“If I wanted someone boring I’d date some random Asian twink in L.A. like Tatsuya said,” Kagami mutters. “Just...I wasn’t sure if you were trying to make me jealous, to see how I’d react.” It wouldn’t be the first time someone has.

 

"Ugh, no, _why,_ " Akashi huffs out, swaying backwards to stare up at him. "That's so classless. I--admittedly, I am touchier when I am drunk," he forwardly states, laying a hand upon Kagami's chest. "But I am not _interested_ in being with anyone else right now. Atsushi is a special person to me, but he needs to go and get a girlfriend in France and brag about her." Akashi pauses, thinking back for a second. "What's a…a twink?" 

 

Kagami’s face burns, and he lets go of Akashi, suddenly ravenous and stuffing three or four gyoza into his mouth. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Not you.”

 

Akashi eyes him suspiciously. "Uh huh." Things to ask Mibuchi later. "Speaking of your friend, Reo won't get off the phone with him." 

 

Kagami grunts. “Yeah. Apparently we accidentally played matchmaker. Sorry for your friend, Tatsuya isn’t good at dating.”

 

"He's good enough at it to return phone calls and texts all day, apparently." Akashi's arms fold, his eyebrows raising. "I see it as a positive. If anyone can handle him, Reo can." 

 

“Huh.” That’s a bit annoying, and Kagami sighs. “Cool. Whatever. He’s a fucking liar, but whatever. Men are stupid. I like you.”

 

Akashi stares at him pointedly. "I'm a man. I mean, thank you, I'm glad you don't think I'm stupid, but I'm still very much a man." 

 

“I, I know you are!” Kagami frowns, trying to put his thoughts into words. “I just meant you’re the exception. My exception.”

 

"So men are the exception now. Interesting."

 

“How about I throw you off the balcony, huh?”

 

"Go on. I'm absolute, I'll survive." 

 

Kagami snorts, then grabs Akashi around the shoulders, steering him back inside. “Hang out with your friends. I’m just gonna cook, okay? I promise I’m fine.”

 

"…If you're _sure_ ," Akashi hedges. "You don't have to cook for us, you know. I _did_ bring enough snacks for everyone, not just Atsushi….oh my god," he mutters, the sound of _Shalala_ hitting him full force the second the balcony door slides open. He grabs Kagami's shirt and hauls him down, kissing him soundly. "For strength to survive this." 

 

“I could have a little _more_ strength,” Kagami suggests with a grin, squeezing Akashi’s ass before heading in. “Don’t worry, I like cooking. Gives me something to do.”

 

"Okay okay okay, but the Michael Jordan playing for Washington is _not_ the same one playing for Chicago! Kagamicchi!" Kise suddenly says, rounding on him the second he's back inside. "Tell them, you're American!"

 

"He's Japanese," Akashi wearily says, flopping back down onto the couch. 

 

"Okay, but he's also _American._ " 

 

“Are you stupid?” Kagami asks, slapping Kise on the back of the head. “Of course there’s only one MJ! He played for Chicago until ’98, then the Wizards after ’01.” He kicks a chair a little, an old scowl settling on his face. “And if my stupid dad had moved to the states like _one year earlier_ , I could have seen him play!”

 

“His shooting percentage is too low for an effective shooting guard,” Midorima says loftily, with red eyes the only sign that he’d spent the last hour curled up in a weeping ball. “His career high field goal percentage is just over half. Embarrassing.”

 

“LeBron’s is higher,” Aomine says smugly.

 

"Kagamicchi, you've been to real NBA games and stuff, right?" Kise brightly presses. "That must be so cool, have you ever met anyone in person and talked to them and let them rub their talent off on you--"

 

"That sounds _so_ wrong, Kise-kun," Kuroko says, now dutifully sipping a Pocari and looking way less disoriented. 

 

"I'm just _saying_. Kagamicchi, is that where you learned to dunk so hard that you rip the hoop off?" 

 

“The _best_ backboard shatters are in college ball,” Kagami says, finally relaxing now that they’re speaking his language. “You guys don’t get American college ball over here, but seriously, it’s _way_ better than the NBA in a lot of ways. Less staged. And they don’t penalize you for ripping the hoop off--they have breakaway rims these days anyway. I saw Tiny Gallon do it once. That was _sick_ \--and it wasn’t even a dunk, it was an alley oop.”

 

“Moves like that are circus spectacle, nothing more,” Midorima says with a sigh. “The purity of shooting--”

 

“Know what? I’ll buy you tickets to a Warriors-Lakers game someday,” Kagami promises, tossing a gyoza into the air and catching it in his mouth. “We’ll have a bet. It’ll be awesome. And you can watch your nerds lose.”

 

"Didn't the Warriors win their last matchup?" Kuroko mildly asks. "Kagami-kun, please only brag about things in your favor." 

 

"More importantly, it's better to be extremely versatile. You can talk about pure shooting all you want, but when is the last time that your captain assigned you an inside shooting position in practice to make sure that you don't get rusty and lose in the semifinals of the Winter Cup, Shintarou?" 

 

A whole lot of _oooOooooh_ rises above the incessant _Shala--lala!_ , which is a blessing and a curse. 

 

Somehow, the night ends with Kagami promising to buy everyone a ticket to a Lakers game at some point, and Murasakibara (predictably) cleaning out his entire refrigerator, with most of the participants only belatedly remembering to wish him a happy going-away. Still, Kagami thinks, surveying the passed-out men draped over every semi-soft surface in his living room, it could have been a _worse_ night.


	11. Chapter 11

A week into the new school year, and Akashi already has a headache. 

 

Classes are one thing, but it should stop with basketball. It increases there instead, mostly because the pickings are slim within first years. This shouldn't be something he worries about now, literally everyone tells him, but he's looking _ahead_ , to when three out of five of his starting members graduate. 

 

He tries to tell himself to be _good_ , to get to work and stop letting numbers swim in front of his vision, but that's easier said than done when he knows that Kagami Taiga, recently moved in at the end of the hall, is actually there. 

 

Self-control can happen _later_ , he firmly tells himself, shutting his book and climbing to his feet. Knowing Kagami, he probably still hasn't fully unpacked. The last weekend didn't produce many results, no matter if Kagami showed up with Kuroko, Aomine, and Momoi in tow to assist in the task. Kagami and Aomine ended up playing one-on-one, Kuroko recorded it while vaguely drooling, and Momoi chattered with him for a solid three hours which was…soothing, but not productive. 

 

Akashi makes his way down the hallway, stops at a drink machine to have at least a Pocari in offering, and knocks on Kagami's door in short order. Maybe he's not even in. Basketball, this late? It wouldn't be the first time they've both surrendered to that.

 

“Just a second!”

 

It’s more like five seconds before a bleary-eyed Kagami opens the door. His room is neatly organized and sorted, his few possessions tucked into shelves and storage crates, futon unfolded on a wire frame against the wall. He’s wearing basketball shorts, clean ones, and an undershirt, and the chair in front of his desk has been pushed back in a hurry. The desk itself is covered with papers, pencils, two calculators, an English-Japanese dictionary, and a calendar with red scrawls all over it. “Hey,” he says, smiling wearily at the sight of Akashi. At least seeing him makes being here worthwhile, even if everything else is pretty much shit so far.

 

Akashi's eyebrows raise before he can stop himself, and he slowly extends his hand with the Pocari. "Good evening. You look somewhat flustered. May I come in?" This was a good decision indeed. Neglecting to put his foot down about organizing Kagami's dorm before the year started was his mistake, and now it's time. 

 

Kagami grabs the Pocari and stands aside, opening the door. “Long day,” he admits. “Lots of homework. God, it’s good to see you, though.” 

 

He locks the door, then leans down for a long, slow kiss, letting his eyes slide shut. Akashi smells like soap and sweat, and there’s not much in the world Kagami finds more attractive than that.

 

 _That's_ better. The joy of being a walk down a hallway from one another rather than a several-hour train ride is immeasurable, and Akashi feels his own headache melt away as he leans up onto his tiptoes to kiss back, slow and long and thorough. "The first week of classes isn't even over," Akashi wryly points back as he rocks onto his heels, his hands placed upon Kagami's shoulders. "This is just the warm-up, I'm afraid. I can look over it for you, if you want?" 

 

“I’d really rather do just about anything else,” Kagami says honestly. “This homework...man, it’s kicking my ass.” His hand dips low, teasing over the waistband of Akashi’s shorts. “Sure you don’t want to distract me instead?”

 

Now comes the less fun part of being boyfriend, _plus_ captain and student council president (votes not yet tallied, but highly favored for second year term). "Is it done?" Akashi refrains from smacking his hand away just yet. "And if it isn't, what do you have left?" 

 

“It’s...” Kagami tries to think, then abandons that for the much nicer task of leaning down to kiss Akashi’s neck, hands splaying over Akashi’s waist to pull him close. “Math is done. I’m still working on classics and English. Haven’t started Government yet. C’mon, I need a break.”

 

"I'm going to start wearing scarves around you at all times, you're not playing fair," Akashi hisses as he gently shoves a hand over Kagami's mouth, _hating_ that he wavers so easily with just a single kiss and a pair of big hands around his waist, damn it all. "If I give you a break now, are you going to be good and actually finish everything? You remember the details of your acceptance letter, don't you?" 

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Kagami gives him a rueful grin, then tugs him back towards the bed. “I have to get high Bs or As in everything, or I’ll be taken off the basketball team. But it’s my first _week_ , and my classes don’t make _sense_...and you’re busy a lot,” he finishes quietly.

 

"That part isn't going to really change, you know," Akashi mildly chides, but he gives up in protesting, allowing Kagami to pull him along. "I just generally am busy. Your classes will get easier, I promise. You should just corner me for help more often, I _am_ in your grade, it's expected." 

 

Kagami kneels, lays his cheek against Akashi’s belly, then turns to kiss it, looking up into those surprisingly gentle red eyes. “It’s worth it. Even if I have to spend my damn free time studying, you know? This school has a good atmosphere. And I _love_ the courts, and...and you.”

 

"Well--I should hope so, you came all this way down here," Akashi murmurs, looking up towards the ceiling to mitigate the hot flush that threatens to cover his face. _Honestly_. Kagami is never going to stop being blunt about that, and it's as adorable as it is terrifying. He heaves a sigh, dragging his fingers through the mess of Kagami's hair. "You're a horrible distraction. A bad influence. I can keep going."

 

“Yeah?” Kagami grins, and tugs down Akashi’s waistband, shoving his shorts to pool around his ankles. “Kinda sounds like fun like this. Keep going. You can pull my hair if you want.” Whoops, there goes something of a fetish that seeing Himuro had reminded him of from long ago, and his cheeks flush slightly when he leans forward, taking Akashi’s cock entirely into his mouth as it starts to harden.

 

Telling Kagami that he's a terrible, _horrible_ influence sounds kind of moot when he already has Akashi's dick in his mouth, and Akashi can't do anything but enjoy it. He sucks in a sharp, ragged breath, reminding himself about _thin walls thin walls dorms are not perfect for sex_ and twisting his fingers up into Kagami's hair to tug as his cock hardens against that hot, wet tongue. "H-how is this even a _break_ for you?"

 

Kagami pulls back, lips already slick as he licks them, breaking the strand of saliva trailing from Akashi’s cock. “I like sucking cock,” he says simply, and dives back down, hands coming up to squeeze and knead Akashi’s ass, a low moan coming from his throat as he feels Akashi swell and harden against his tongue. That--that feeling of a man getting hard in his mouth--for some reason, that’s Kagami’s favorite part.

 

"Fair enough," Akashi airily settles upon, only to find the need to clamp a hand over his mouth in the next second, stifling a breathy groan when Kagami swallows him whole again. 

 

If he were _coherent_ during things like this, he'd start quizzing Kagami about kanji, and classics, and probably some weird math problems whenever he'd come up for air. That'd teach him to learn how to multi-task and focus. As it is, his own multi-tasking skills are slim to none in moments like this, and better is clinging to Kagami's hair and trying not to arch up into his mouth is harder by the second. 

 

It’s nice when Kagami’s mind clicks off like this. The only things he can hear are Akashi’s breathing, and the obscene slurping, sloppy sound of his own mouth. All he can feel is Akashi standing proud and strong above him, smelling like victory and _man_ , stretching his lips with every thrust of his thick cock. 

 

His hands draw Akashi in harder, ignoring the way his mouth tries to lock up and choke. That’s not important. He’ll get better at this with practice, and he _does_ enjoy practice when it’s like this, when Akashi is whimpering and gasping whenever he moves his tongue.

 

Kagami _did_ tell him to pull on his hair, that it was fine, but god--just doing that much makes Akashi's eyes glaze, especially when he can feel how _eager_ Kagami is every time he does it harder.

 

Self-control is needed in keeping his own mouth shut, not in anything else, he helplessly decides, and he grinds his teeth together to keep his voice down as he tangles both hands up into Kagami's hair again, tugging him down as he shudders hard with every suck and lap of that tongue. Between that and the way Kagami grabs at him, yanking him in, Akashi finds himself bent forward, panting through his teeth, feeling the day's tension melt away every single time Kagami sucks on him. 

 

It feels like Akashi is holding him down, using his hair as a handle to fuck his face, and Kagami shudders at the thought. He grabs at that tight ass, yanking it forward, helping as much as he can, wanting Akashi’s cock entirely down his throat, getting what he wants with a broken, strangled groan. 

 

Kagami hollows his cheeks, sucking hard one moment, running his tongue over the underside the next, flicking the tip of his tongue over the slit to taste the precome slowly leaking into his mouth, shuddering at the taste. Breathing is for losers. _This_ gets him everything he wants.

 

" _Ah_ \--god, _fuck_ , Taiga--" Kagami is wholly responsible for his mouth, for every rasped out piece of terrible language, and Akashi doesn't even _mind_. He especially doesn't mind in moments like these when his legs feel weak and Kagami's tongue makes them even weaker, and shoving his cock down Kagami's throat is the only thing that feels like it _matters_. 

 

Akashi barely gets a chance out to hiss out a warning before he comes, panting hard as his fingers scrabble and yank at Kagami's hair, holding him down to make _sure_ that he swallows all of it. He dimly remembers over the thud of his pulse that Kagami absolutely needs to breathe, and he loosens his hold after a faltering moment of watching Kagami's throat bob and swallow, his hands trembling and shaky. "I…s-sorry, too much pulling? Probably too much." 

 

Spots burst behind Kagami’s eyes as he chokes, but the rush of liquid on his tongue is a great reminder to _swallow, swallow all of it_ that he doesn’t even need, greedily, thirstily gulping down everything Akashi has to spill. He’s almost confused, put out when Akashi pulls back, and blinks up at him. “Wh...no, that was good. That was great.” 

 

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, fighting down the weird gay impulse to lick it, and wipes the tears from his cheeks with the other. “You taste so good. Seriously.”

 

"…It's probably the tofu," Akashi breathlessly deadpans, and wobbles before he gives up, getting his hands on Kagami's shoulders to steady himself instead. "You're not human, but all right. Now I know, you don't need to _breathe_ , apparently." 

 

Kagami beams up at him. “All the endurance training,” he says cheekily. “Helps me hold my breath longer.”

 

Akashi stares him directly in the eye, calmly crouches to yank his shorts back up, and then lifts his foot to grind his heel into Kagami's shoulder. "I hope you've noticed that you're very behind in terms of accuracy and consistency during practice," he sing-songs, giving him a light kick. "Endurance is not the problem, Taiga. Now, what part of your homework do you want me to help you with?" 

 

“You can’t _step on me_ and then expect me to focus on homework,” Kagami complains, dropping his hand to grip his own hard cock through his shorts. “You’re gonna do something about this, right? Come on, Seijuurou...”

 

"You're _going_ to have to get better at this and learn to focus more, you know," Akashi exhales with a huff, flopping back onto the edge of Kagami's bed. "All right, fine, but nothing _else_ until you're done with work, I'm serious. Pick your poison." 

 

Kagami pulls out his cock, more quick than is probably attractive, and scoots over to sit next to Akashi. He closes one big hand over Akashi’s, and tugs it to his cock, looking down into his eyes. “Kiss me?” he asks, voice low and a little husky as he slowly grinds his cock against that soft palm.

 

He is _basically_ the weakest in the world when it comes to Kagami Taiga, and, well…that…could be worse. 

 

It's a lot easier to focus on school and everything stupid about it when he doesn't have an argument like this, Akashi thinks. They're _both_ going to need to work on that, but right now, Kagami's lips are still red and a little swollen, and tasting himself on Kagami's tongue when he lurches up to kiss him is enough to make him shudder anew. 

 

"You're a _problem_ ," he groans, his fingers slowly, but firmly squeezing, his teeth nipping into Kagami's lower lip to gently tug. "A really hot one. How dare you." 

 

“Probably not gonna stop,” Kagami says, teasing and gentle until Akashi squeezes his cock. Then his voice drops, and he lets out a soft, “ _fuck_ ,” letting his forehead tip forward to rest against Akashi’s as his breathing changes. “Your hands--they feel so small like this,” he whispers, then sucks on Akashi’s tongue, exhaling deeply through his nose. His cock is already hard enough to be dripping over those slender pale fingers, and he thrusts shallowly up into Akashi’s grip, mindlessly seeking that pleasure.

 

Kagami is _very_ good at stomping down onto every single button he has, which is so unfortunate when he's trying to be _good_ and limit himself for the evening. Akashi's breath is hot and fast, his other hand grabbing around the back of Kagami's neck, pulling him down for harder kisses as his fingers squeeze and stroke, working their way up to the tip of Kagami's cock where his thumb presses and rubs over the dripping, leaking tip. "That's because _you're_ so big," he murmurs, licking at his own lower lip for the split second that they aren't kissing. "I _love_ that." 

 

Kagami lets out a noise suspiciously like a whimper, surrendering himself to Akashi’s rough squeezing, his dominant kisses, his determined pulling. It’s easy to do when Akashi seems to know exactly how to touch him, how much he wants to handle, and wants to give that to him. He parts his lips eagerly, then almost unconsciously grabs at Akashi’s less busy hand, dragging it to his own chest. “If you--uh, if you want this to be over sooner...” He starts to say, then trails off, not sure he wants to finish that sentence out loud, even if the idea makes his cock jerk against Akashi’s fingers.

 

It's not that he wants it to be over sooner--he has given up, this is his fate now--but Akashi _does_ very much catch the way that Kagami twitches within his grasp. "Noted," he mutters, and scoots closer, his hand making quick work of shoving Kagami's undershirt up to paw at a nipple, twisting it slowly between his fingers. 

 

He'd be a horrible liar to say that he didn't love how easy Kagami was about some things. It makes him feel a dozen times less weird about his own various turn-ons, and this is one that he can really _appreciate._ "Harder? Or is that enough?" he breathlessly asks, pinching for good measure, just to make _sure_ that's good enough.

 

“ _God_.”

 

Kagami throws his head back, biting his bottom lip when Akashi starts pinching and squeezing. His thighs part as his cock swells, and he sucks in a thin breath through his nose, eyes sliding shut as he ruts up into Akashi’s hand. It’s a good thing he’s long since stopped feeling embarrassed about this particular turn-on, he thinks vaguely, or he’d be too embarrassed to ask for something that feels so good he feels like his skin might burst. “It’s--it’s good, it’s so good, you can do it harder if you want but more--if you pull--”

 

"Got it," Akashi murmurs, complete with a shove that gets Kagami flat on his back, and a hell of a lot easier to _deal with_ when Akashi slings a leg over his hips. His eyes hood, gaze bright underneath his lashes as his fingers twist before he pulls, drawing out the tug on Kagami's nipple with his other hand squeezing and stroking his cock harder. 

 

It’s probably telling in some way that Kagami gets off so hard on his boyfriend shoving him down like that, straddling him and yanking on his nipple while he grabs his cock. 

 

At the moment, he’s too far gone to care. His spine arches, entire body stiffening as he covers his mouth with his hand, knowing he can’t trust himself to keep silent when he’s coming so hard. He spills over Akashi’s hand, the hot fluid shooting up to hit his own chest as his body trembles, barely held in check by the weight of Akashi on top of him. He lets his hand drop to the ground, eyes glazed, and takes in a deep breath again. “Ahh. Th-thanks.”

 

"You're welcome," is the light, vaguely breathless and dazed retort as Akashi slowly sits back onto Kagami's thighs. He eyeballs his own very sticky hand, and tentatively gives it a lick before making a face and grabbing at Kagami's shirt to wipe it off. "You eat _far_ too much meat." 

 

Kagami grimaces. “Yeah, sorry. That’s probably not gonna change. Heh, this one time back in L.A., some girl told Tatsuya that his tasted bad, and we each drank like half a liter of pineapple juice every day for a week.” He nuzzles against Akashi’s shoulder. “No difference. I guess you _also_ have to stop eating burgers, which isn’t going to happen.”

 

"…What joke am I missing, I absolutely don't eat burgers unless options are slim." 

 

“No, like ‘one also has to stop,’ not you specifically.”

 

"Oh. Got it." Akashi sits back, rubbing irritably at one temple. "Sorry. I've been worrying over the team for next year already and I'm not focusing well because of it. Unadvisable, but that's sort of how I'm wired. Please let me help you with your homework, I need a task." 

 

Kagami sighs and sits up, pulling his shorts back up. “Yeah, okay. English, please. It’s the worst, and that makes me so angry I feel like I don’t want to study anymore.”

 

"Still?" Akashi bites back a sigh, frustrated over his own inability to teach this all faster and easier--and then something occurs to him. "Wait. Did they not give you a placement exam for English?"

 

“Uh...no.” Kagami frowns, thinking back. There’ve been a lot of tests lately. “I think they just did it based on where I was at Seirin. I have Kazura-sensei for English, which one is that?”

 

"Forgive me, this is Eikichi's term--dumbass English," Akashi grouses, hauling himself to his feet. "For those that can barely understand a word and so, of course, the class is almost all in Japanese. Right, we're going to get them to give you the actual exam so that you can place out of there and into the _right_ class, where everything is in English, all the time." 

 

Kagami blinks, startled. “Wait--they have classes like that? What the fuck, how come this is the easy version when it’s _awful_? Hearing something in one language and having to force it over is _way_ harder than just doing it all in one!”

 

"You don't have to tell me that, I've had a tutor that only spoke in English since I was _three_ ," Akashi huffs, then brightens suddenly. "If you get in--and you will, it'll be so easy for you--that means we'll have a class together." 

 

“Wait, really?” Kagami hesitates. “That sounds...like it’s for smart people. Ask Kuroko, they’re not gonna want me in that class.”

 

"Because _Kuroko_ is a solid judge of intelligence. Here," he says, grabbing a sheet of paper and quickly writing out a typical 'problem' from the class, "this is a glimpse of what my homework looks like, you'll be bored to death." 

 

Kagami looks over Akashi’s homework for about three seconds before looking up, affronted. “But--a baby could do this! What the hell? Are all classes really easy at the higher levels? Is this a trick?”

 

"Please use some common sense, you're ticking me off just a little," Akashi _sweetly_ says, smacking a stack of homework worksheets into Kagami's chest. "You've spoken English in an English-speaking country for years. Most of these students have never even had a specialized tutor, and the only immersion that they get is at school. Of _course_ it's going to be ridiculously easy for you." 

 

“I still think it sounds like a trick,” Kagami says with a shrug, and ignores the English for now, pulling out his stack of Classics next. “Mibuchi said he’d help me with these tomorrow if I couldn’t get them, but his way of explaining stuff is kinda fruity. Why the hell should I care which of these stupid dead poets was in love with a geisha?”

 

"Don't let Reo help you unless you're desperate and I'm busy, he goes off on very weird tangents," Akashi sighs, flopping down into Kagami's desk chair. "And I don't know, you don't have to _care_. Here, give me the pages from your reading, I'll highlight what they're undoubtedly going to test you on and what that entire homework assignment is probably about. It'll narrow down your kanji searching if nothing else." 

 

“How the hell could you possibly know what they’re going to test on?” Kagami demands. “The whole see-the-future thing is only basketball, isn’t it?”

 

Akashi blinks up at him slowly. "Oh. Right, I've definitely said that kind of thing before, haven't I. Um, no, it's not like that, it's more of just understanding how to study as efficiently as possible. Teachers are predictable." 

 

“Are they?” Kagami usually thinks of teachers as being kind of another species. “Okay. Well. Cool, teach me how teachers think.” It’s not like that kind of thing wouldn’t be useful, after all, if Akashi can actually pull it off. Without thinking, he presses a kiss to the top of Akashi’s head.

 

"…All right." Akashi absently rubs at the top of his head where he's been kissed, pleased. "Don't tell Reo I'm teaching you this way, though, especially regarding classics and literature things. He gets very up at arms, there's no 'art' to it, apparently. I don't know about you, but I'd rather spend my free time playing basketball, not slaving over flashcards." 

 

“Oh my god, if he tries to give me those flashcards again, I’m going to shove them down his throat. You know he made me my own set? By _hand?_ He has _way_ too much time on his hands, man.”

 

"He just likes rewriting poetry and sighing over it in the dark. I don't have any idea why." 

 

“How does he even _read_ in the dark?”

 

"Carefully, like some weird cat that's unfortunately obsessed with every barely known female tanka poet. Here, we can do this in bed, bring your worksheets and some extra paper and I'll write out guides for you. Is it just those four classes? Well, three, we won't worry about English right now." 

 

“I don’t do homework in bed,” Kagami complains, though he gathers up his work anyway. “Bed is supposed to be a good place, this is work.” Although, he supposes bed with work and _Akashi_ isn’t such a bad thing.

 

"If you think of this as being the worst thing in the world, it will be," Akashi bluntly tells him, folding himself up onto the bed neatly and taking the papers and books away from Kagami. "We have extra study sessions during lunch, you should come, then, too. Less for you to do at night, more practice time…"

 

Kagami arranges himself on the bed however he can to keep from squashing either Akashi or his homework. “You guys seriously all eat lunch together? That sounds kinda nice.” And if Nebuya is there, no one will make fun of him for how much he eats, even better.

 

"I've been telling you this for awhile now," Akashi wryly reminds him, checking the assigned reading pages for his classics class, and flipping to a blank page in Kagami's notebook to start jotting down what is going to quickly turn into a full outline. Habits. Whatever, Kagami will benefit. "After awhile, you start to know what particular types of teachers are going to look for. Mikazuki-sensei is lazy, and in classics, that means people's names, three important dates in relation to them on average, their own relationships, and what they're famous for in the first place. Know the meanings of their bodies of work as necessary. Repeat ad nauseam."

 

“Nauseum is right,” Kagami mutters, but it _does_ sound a lot less awful than just about every other kind of studying he’s ever done. And if he can do it with his arm around Akashi...maybe it isn’t so bad, after all.

 

~

 

**To: Tetsu-kuuu~n**

**From: Momoi Satsuki <3**

**Subject: Dai-chan**

**Tetsu-kun, it’s Momoi! Hi!**

 

**You know I wouldn’t bother you unless it was suuuper important, right? Just because I’m dating Kise-kun now doesn’t mean you aren’t still Number 1 in my heart, hehe! <3 Well, it’s about Dai-chan. He showed up at my house three weeks ago and said he needed to stay the night--but it’s been three whole weeks!! I said I wouldn’t tell anyone, though--so if you could come over and catch him here at some point?? maybe he will go home and work things out with his dad?? He won’t tell me what’s wrong, but my room smells like BOY and my dad is going to get really mad soon!!! Also he keeps scaring Kise-kun away and that’s soooo uncool!!!!!!!!!!!**

 

**Thanks for reading, sorry to bother you!!!!! let me know when’s good for you??? <3 <3 <3 <3 <3**

 

**Sa~Tsu~Ki~ <3**

 

The e-mail glares at Kuroko through the computer screen, like some hulking, terrible thing. Excellent. Fantastic. They all go to school together now, and this, apparently, is not something that can be discussed in person because it's so sensitive. 

 

Kuroko slowly grabs a nearby pillow, and pulls it over his face. 

 

Confirming that Saturday before noon is _just fine! We'll go out shopping! <3 <3_ is all well and good, but Kuroko doesn't sleep Friday night, feeling the same, intense frustration that he felt for months after middle school. It's fine for Aomine to have secrets, if he wants, but things like this… 

 

He is rumpled and barely rid of bedhead when he arrives at Momoi's, right around 10 on Saturday morning. The door is unlocked as Momoi promised, and he quietly steps inside, toeing off his shoes and making his way to her bedroom, wherein he cracks open the door and stares down at the lump that is Aomine's carcass on Momoi's floor, wrapped in blankets. 

 

Kuroko's eyes narrow. "Aomine-kun." 

 

There’s a long period where the lump doesn’t move, and then suddenly moves a lot all at once, flailing to the side before resolving itself into Aomine Daiki tangled in a blanket. He winds up on his back on the floor, looking puzzled up at Kuroko. “Yo, Tetsu. You breaking into Satsuki’s house? Her panties are in the top drawer.”

 

"No. I'm here to retrieve you, please get dressed." Finding a clean set of clothes is easy enough, what with how they're scattered around, and Kuroko throws them swiftly over Aomine's head. "You've inconvenienced Momoi-san long enough, I think."

 

“Eh? Did Satsuki say that? Fucking traitor.” Aomine struggles into his clothes without standing up, rubbing a hand down over his face. “You wanna go somewhere or something?”

 

Kuroko doesn't say anything, curbing back his slow, simmering fury into the process of grabbing up every single article of Aomine's clothing that he can find and tossing it into a bag that he brought, because he knew, _he knew_ this would be the case. "We're going to my house," he finally manages when he's sure he can keep his voice calm and level. "Because…I don't know, you don't want to go home, I'm guessing? That's fine." 

 

“Oi. Stop that.” One big hand closes over Kuroko’s, Aomine’s voice suddenly low and flat. “I’m not gonna put your family out. You’re dating me, not my issues. Satsuki can deal, I’ll make it up to her.”

 

"I don't even know what your issues _are!_ " 

 

So much for calm. Kuroko's teeth grit, and he takes a step back to glare up at Aomine properly. "You couldn't even tell me this was going on. I could have done something. I've told you a million times that I would help. You know that's what people _do_ when they're dating--they take care of each other." 

 

Aomine’s blood surges for a minute, and he can’t deny that there’s an urge to lunge up, to grab Kuroko by the collar, to lift him up and shake him--but that would be taking out his anger on the wrong person, and wouldn’t help him besides. 

 

He slumps, tugging on one sock halfheartedly. “What are you gonna do about it, huh? What kind of high school guy wants to deal with his boyfriend getting kicked out of the house? I’m trying to handle it--like you said, man up and deal with my own shit.”

 

"You could tell me what's going on, for starters." Snapping once does wonders for his nerves, and Kuroko exhales a long breath, shutting his eyes. "Did you really get kicked out, or did you and your dad just have a bad fight and neither of you want to apologize?" 

 

Aomine looks out the window, rubbing a hand over his head, making short hair stand on end. “We had a fight. He put my new Jordans in the dryer and fucked them up and told Mom I did it--something dumb, but he was drinking. Mom...she got scared he was gonna leave. Again.” Ah, that’s something he hadn’t told Kuroko about. He sighs, and mutters, “He walked out on her for a couple months last year and stayed at a capsule hotel. Freaked her right out. So she told me it was better if I wasn’t around for a while.” Maybe saying it that way makes it sound not quite as upsetting as it had been. Aomine hopes so.

 

Kuroko falls silent again, and eventually, he heaves another sigh, shrugging his bag back onto his shoulder. "Then it can't be helped. Come stay at my house for awhile, Aomine-kun, as planned." 

 

“Nah, man. I can’t do that to your grandma and your folks. Besides, at least Satsuki’s family likes me.” For whatever reason, the Momoi family has always been extremely tolerant of his presence, even when it makes little sense to Aomine himself. “And you’d get sick of me.”

 

"You'll stay in my room and it won't be a problem. If you're polite, they won't notice you're even there." Kuroko wavers, debating on whether or not to say anything, but decides to do it just to make _sure_ this turns out the way he wants it to. "Momoi-san is tired of her room smelling like boy and _very_ tired of you scaring Kise-kun away. Honestly, Aomine-kun…" 

 

“Did she say that? Dumb bitch, it’s for her own good. She’s _way_ too good for Kise,” Aomine grumbles, but he starts shoving his clothes into the bag Kuroko had brought nonetheless. “Fine, but if your grandma puts my Jordans in the dryer, I’ll go sleep in the park.”

 

"She's too good for Kise-kun, but she's having fun with him, and maybe she'll teach him how to be a better person." Kuroko watches quietly for a moment, and finally asks, his voice calm and quiet: "Why can't you ever tell me when this kind of thing is going on?" 

 

Aomine stands up at last, not facing Kuroko as he shoves the rest of his stuff into the bag. “It’s lame. Fighting with my dad--that’s the kind of thing a dumb kid worries about. Satsuki already knew me when I was a dumb kid, so...”

 

"It's not just fighting with your dad and you know that. It's--he's _not_ a good person, and he doesn't treat you like he should." Kuroko's voice wavers in spite of himself, and he shakes his head as if trying to shake it off physically. "And your mom's not any better. I'm sorry, Aomine-kun, I shouldn't say things like that, but it really makes me angry--so…so at least let me do this much. You can stay with me as long as you need." He hesitates, glancing at the very pink and sparkle-covered alarm clock next to Momoi's bed. "But can you hurry it up, please, because I need to be back at my apartment by noon." 

 

Aomine moves in the second Kuroko’s back is turned, hitting him like a soft freight train and engulfing him in a sudden crushing hug. “Tetsu...thanks.” 

 

The words are a little more ragged than Aomine wants them to be, with none of the bravado he’d thrown at Momoi over the last few weeks-- _It’s fine, I’m just waiting for it to blow over--it’s no big deal, he can go fuck himself--who cares what they think, I’d rather be out on my own anyway_ \--and everything he’d been keeping down.

 

Kuroko exhales a long, shaky breath, his eyes lidding, and he twists around in Aomine's hold immediately to wrap both arms around his neck and haul him down for a hot, desperate kiss. "Don't thank me, just let me _take care of you_ ," he pleads, knocking his forehead against Aomine's. "I messed it up once, I don't want to do that again." 

 

Aomine lets out a breath, kissing Kuroko back in a way that can only be called _aggressive_. “You’re gonna regret this, you know,” he murmurs between brushes of his lips. Then he pulls back, brow furrowing. “What’s at noon?”

 

"Babysitting." Kuroko stares directly into his eyes. "The only thing I regret is not sleeping at all last night, and now I get to deal with several young children."

 

“Gross. Why didn’t you sleep?” Aomine narrows his eyes. “You were worried about me. Dumbass. You should have just called or come over then.”

 

"Momoi-san didn't want to be involved, or for there to be a scene. I think this constitutes as a scene." 

 

Aomine rolls his eyes, and lets Kuroko go, shouldering his bag and Kuroko’s as well. “This is only a scene because you’re overdramatic. Whatever, let’s go.” He’s not sure what makes him say under his breath as they leave the house, “You know, he’s not even my real dad.”

 

"I figured." It's not something that's ever been plain-stated, but Kuroko can and has inferred, from a noted lack of pictures, a few off-handed comments here and there…and, well. "Aomine-kun, you're too tall and dark to just be Japanese." 

 

“Guess so.” Aomine shrugs the bag straps higher onto his shoulder. “American. Military. We used to live in Okinawa, I guess. I don’t remember it. Mom didn’t keep any pictures of him, but I guess he’s black. Just a fucking guess.”

 

"He's probably really hot," Kuroko says unabashedly, coming to a stop at the crosswalk and glancing up at him. "Considering what you look like. At any rate, superior basketball genetics, right? That's how that works, I think…" 

 

“Not according to Kise. He’s always surprised I’m so good at basketball because I’m so dark. Has he ever even _seen_ a fucking game on tv?”

 

"Aomine-kun, do you know how you are book stupid, but people smart? Kise-kun is the opposite by leaps and bounds, and it's kind of shocking on a daily basis." 

 

“His grades are just as bad as mine,” Aomine grumbles. “He’s book stupid _and_ people stupid. That’s not the opposite at all!”

 

"That's fair. Kise-kun is just stupid. That's kind of nice to remember. Ah, speaking of Kise-kun, I just remembered something funny. Remember that video I took of you and Kagami-kun playing at Rakuzan?" 

 

“The one you were drooling all weird over? Yeah, I remember.” Not that it hadn’t been flattering. “Makes me wonder how you made it through our game without beating off in the locker room.”

 

"Never mind that, Aomine-kun. Apparently, it has close to a hundred thousand views on NicoVideo. I let Kise-kun put it up there." Kuroko shrugs lightly. "He wanted to promote how cool you were or something."

 

Aomine’s eyebrows raise, and there’s a little extra swagger in his step after that. “Yeah? Well, sure. Of course it does. I’m awesome. Too bad that idiot is there, too,” he says almost fondly. “Well, I guess he’ll make me look good.”

 

"You did win, technically, so that's nice." Kuroko pauses, a smile tugging at his lips. "I don't know, I thought it was pretty cool. I'm hoping that someone important sees it and links someone at the NBA. I'd do it myself, but literally everyone tends to miss my e-mails." 

 

“Fucking magical. You seriously think it could go that far?” Aomine grins, lacing his hands together behind his head. “That would be awesome. They’d be lucky to see us play. Man, once we graduate it’s gonna be so cool. Figure out some way to get to America, get scouted--I dunno how it works, but I know if they just see me play, they’ll be beating down the door. I’m only getting better, now that I’m all fired up. Don’t tell Kagami. I don’t want him to think he’s _responsible_ or some shit.”

 

There is nothing more of a relief than to see Aomine acting even remotely happy, but this is beyond that, and about _basketball_ and the future besides. Kuroko wonders if there is a word for that feeling when someone's insides start to turn to melty goo from happiness. This is it, whatever it is. "Mm. I'm not going to tell him, don't worry. We should both start looking into overseas exchanges now, as one plan. I was talking to Kagami-kun, and college basketball in America is the best way for anyone to really get a start, so…" 

 

“Yeah? Ugh, more school, what the hell is the point of that? I mean, if you’re a nerd like Akashi and Midorima and Murasakibara that’s one thing.” His eyes narrow. “ _You_ could get into an exchange program. I don’t think I could.”

 

"I know it's more school, but it's still a way to do it," Kuroko points out. "I could help you get in. I bet if it was really based on talent, it wouldn't matter. Just promise me you'll keep an open mind about it if I can make that work? It's just one plan, not the only one." 

 

“If it was based on talent, I’d be the fucking Ace of the class.” Aomine pauses. “Or whatever it’s called. The thing Imayoshi got, that dumb award. I’d get it.”

 

"That's nice, Aomine-kun. Kagami-kun told me it's really easy to get into American college if you're good at sports, especially basketball and American football, so I think you've got it covered." 

 

“Oh. Cool. They’ve got their heads on straight, then.” Aomine’s step is light now, and he grins. “There’s a court on the way to your house. Wanna shoot a few hoops? Talking about playing makes me want to play.”

 

Kuroko pauses, pulls out his phone to check the time, and sighs, weak to cute, bouncy Aomines. "Just for a little bit," he warns. "Remember: babysitting. And you're not allowed to curse in front of the children when we go back to my apartment." 

 

“Why are you _babysitting_ , anyway? Isn’t that a pretty girly way to make money?” Aomine drops the bags the second he sees the court, grabbing an ever-present ball out of his duffel and heading for the free-throw line. “C’mon, Tetsu, try to block me! It’s no fun if someone doesn’t try!”

 

"You are not going to be very satisfied by me, Aomine-kun," Kuroko lightly sighs, but there's a smile on his lips anyway as he trots over. "You can call it girly if you want, but it's still a way to make money and the kids in my apartment building are usually very well-behaved." 

 

“The hell are you spending all that cash on?” Aomine asks, dribbling lazily in a circle as a warm-up, sending the ball rolling up one arm, behind his back, and down the other. “You getting into collecting something? Think fast!” he calls, then darts forward, eyes only on the basket.

 

Kuroko does _try_ , and with quite a bit of enthusiasm, but Aomine is far too fast, breezing past him with ease, and he rolls his eyes, stepping away to shed his coat in short order. "I'm not spending it. I'm saving it." 

 

Driving past Kuroko is only minimal fun, so Aomine tosses him the ball. “Do layups and alley oops with me. You’re so lame, saving those pennies.” He runs up, grabbing a quick pass for a dunk, hanging from the basket for a second before dropping. “When I make it big, we’re gonna have a huge-ass house.”

 

"Why do we need a huge-ass house, Aomine-kun?" Kuroko deadpans, scooping up the ball and dribbling slowly as he waits for Aomine to be a sizable distance from the basket again. "I could live in a one-room in Tokyo with you," he says. "I bet your head would hit the ceiling, but I could do it." 

 

“Well, yeah.” Aomine jogs back to the half-court line, then holds out his hand, already trotting back towards the basket. “You could sleep on top of me. We could get one of those little one-room places, twenty meters squared between both of us.” Not that he’s thought about it. Not that he’s dreamed about it. “Just you and me and the dog.”

 

Kuroko nods, pleased that Aomine is absolutely including Nigou in his plans, and draws back to send a quick pass directly into his hand. "Obviously, I want us to be able to go to America, so you can play there, but…mm, it's another plan, because it's necessary to have a few." Kuroko hesitates, then shrugs. "That's why it's good to save up for things." 

 

“Tetsu.” Aomine sinks a shot without even looking at the basket, catching it one-handed. “As long as I’ve got you and basketball and a challenge, I’d live just about anywhere.”

 

There's that melty, knee-buckling feeling again, and Kuroko stifles a noise, turning pointedly away. "Dai-kun's being so cute today, I'm probably going to die."

 

Aomine grins. “You called me Dai-kun. I love that. My name is cute, you should use it all the time.”

 

"Dai-kun is almost being cute enough for me to forgive him for being so stupid and not telling me things. _Almost_." 

 

“I’m always _almost_ cute enough for you to forgive me for the dumb stuff I do,” Aomine agrees. “That’s just the kind of guy I am. Aren’t you lucky?”

 

"If you kiss me and throw a basketball at the face of any guy that comes by and freaks out about it, I'm going to think I'm the luckiest person in the world." 

 

Aomine loops the court once, then spins the ball on his finger as he approaches, never letting it drop even when he swoops down to plant a solid kiss on Kuroko’s mouth. He looks around, eyes sparkling. “No one, huh? Oi! Tokyo! I’m gonna make out with this guy!”

 

"Shhhh." Kuroko is smiling brightly even as he hops up to put a hand over Aomine's mouth. "You win, you're so cute. Remember, don't kiss me in front of the kids at the apartment, either. Just be handsome and sweet, I like that about you." 

 

Aomine slings an arm low around Kuroko’s waist. “Then I guess I better keep being handsome and sweet, huh? Am I still on probation?” He probably deserves to be.

 

Kuroko considers this, and then shakes his head. "You're on probationary probation," he says matter-of-factly. "A level-up." 

 

“Sweet,” Aomine says, as if Kuroko’s jibberish cataloguing system actually means anything. “Well, hell. The world can’t stop me, then.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

_Three Months Later--Week Before the Inter-High Qualifier, Kyoto_

 

All the way back to Japan, Kagami is convinced that he has got this. He can handle this. No one has to know. This can be on the back burner for a while, and it’s not going to shake up his team. It’ll be a private conversation to have with Akashi much later, when their team has already advanced, and everyone can be counted on to be cool. He’s only been gone a few days, hardly enough time for them to miss him. That’s good. He doesn’t need to shake anyone up, not now that they’re in such good form as a team, finally learning to work together, now that the rest of Rakuzan has accepted him as their power forward.

 

His resolve to keep quiet lasts until he turns the corner to Rakuzan’s practice gym and sees Akashi from behind, and his heart constricts.

 

_I can’t do it. I can’t pretend nothing’s wrong. He’ll know. Mibuchi will absolutely know. Hell, they’ll all know._

 

He retreats, then takes the coward’s way out, pulling out his phone.

 

**To: Seijuurou**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: hey**

**can you meet me behind the training gym? Just got back want to see u.**

 

"--and _that's_ why we need to bring out the trampoline again!" 

 

Hayama's enthusiastic rambling is cute, but something of a nuisance to try and hear phones over. Akashi drops a towel over his own head, scrubbing at his sweaty hair as he pulls his phone out from his pocket, and exhales a slow, soft breath. "You can bring out the trampoline if you want," he uncaringly says, drifting towards the wide-open door of the gym. "We've practiced hard today already. I'll be right back." 

 

"Nooo, the point of the trampoline is we throw _you_ on it!"

 

Akashi ignores that and the sound of echoing dribbling and squeaking shoes, trotting around the side of the gym and catching sight of Kagami in an instant. "You should have just come inside," he greets on a sigh no matter the smile on his face, slowing to a walk. "Welcome back, Taiga. How was your trip?" 

 

Thoughts of everything back in America fade for a blessed moment at the sight of Akashi’s elegant sculpted face, and Kagami wraps him up in his arms, lifting him off the ground in a massive hug. “Missed you. You got hotter, how?”

 

"I think you got stronger," Akashi wheezes, content to be lifted all the same and slinging his arms around Kagami's neck to dangle there. "I missed you, too." It's not like Kagami had had time to Skype while in America, and the time difference was too much of a strain on both of their schedules, besides. Doing without for a few days wasn't pleasant, and it's a stark reminder of how good it is that Kagami's here _now_. "Hopefully, you didn't laze around for the past few days," he sighs, stuffing his face into Kagami's neck and breathing in deeply. "Everyone was worried that you wouldn't be in the right mindset for the qualifiers, but I told them to shut up." 

 

“I’m just hoping that there’s someone in the area who can put up a fight,” Kagami says, looking around to make sure no one is coming before stealing a lightning-swift kiss. “I’ve got stuff to tell you about, but if you don’t have time, it can wait.”

 

What had seemed so important to talk about suddenly feels like nothing at all, when Akashi’s solid warmth is resting in his arms.

 

"Kyoto's qualifiers are easy mode, sorry. It's all right, we'll get to face off against the Tokyo teams soon enough." Akashi rocks back down onto his heels, blinking up at him. "I have all the time in the world. My other option is being thrown onto a trampoline--fun, but not always advisable. Do you want to walk? I'll get you a Pocari." 

 

“That sounds awesome. It’s been mostly Gatorade for a few days. You’d be surprised how quick I start to crave Pocari.” Kagami drapes an arm over Akashi’s shoulders, squeezing him close. As they start to walk (and it sounds so trivial now), he says, “It’s just my dad’s being dumb. Just so you know. But I already told him I’m staying here, no matter what, and I think he got it.”

 

"…Verbal ladder," Akashi carefully reminds him, stopping at a vending machine to toss in a couple of coins and retrieve the Pocari in question. "What about your dad? Does he want you back in America after all?" 

 

“Hmph. It’s not that he _wants_ me.” Kagami takes the Pocari, draining about half of it in five seconds. “Some scam artist convinced him that he could get me a pro contract if I went back and played for this big-name school there, and he went gaga over the idea of me playing for his alma mater. They were talking about some weird video on Nico--because that’s totally legit, right?”

 

 _Two weeks ago, a single text from Aomine Daiki: 'DID_ YOU _SEND MY VIDEO TO SOME GUY IN AMERICA?'_

 

_'??? No? What video?'_

 

_And silence, never to be mentioned again._

 

It's an odd, shocking thing to have weird pieces suddenly fit into place, and Akashi stares up at Kagami, not _entirely_ sure if he's playing dumb, or doesn't get it, or--"Was it the video of you and Aomine playing one on one?" he asks. "Because I've heard that one's been…going around." 

 

Kagami looks down warily. “Yeah. Seriously? I figured he was yanking dad’s chain, or he’d been doing some kind of creepy stalking on our games.” He drains the rest of the Pocari, then tosses the bottle neatly into a marked can. “Anyway. Dad basically jizzed his pants about the whole thing, but I told him I wanted to stay at Rakuzan.”

 

"Did he tell you the name of the school? His name? Did he give you his card?" He is calm. He is _very_ calm, and not thinking about the possibility of Kagami leaving for America, _staying there_. Akashi sucks in a slow, even breath. "What did your coach have to say about this? I know you told her about it." 

 

“Stop doing that thing where you read my mind. She...I dunno, she’s projecting. She wants me to make it big because she had to retire.” Damn, Kagami can hear how defensive he’s getting in his own voice, and he looks away. “Yeah. I got his card. You wanna see it? He’s from Bishop Montgomery. It’s...” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I mean, it’s the best basketball school in California. But it’s just _high_ school, no one cares about that.”

 

"But high school in America means an easy ticket into American university, which means NBA, if you're good enough. And you are." 

 

It's not accusatory, merely stating a calm fact, no matter how Akashi's heart starts pounding a little too hard in his chest. "Taiga. Are you trying to convince yourself that this isn't a real thing because you really think it's a scam, or because you think you need to stay here?" 

 

No, no, no, this is not where Kagami had wanted this conversation to go tonight. He swallows, not letting go of Akashi’s shoulders. “Maybe both? I mean, I _just_ got into Rakuzan--I’m good enough that there will be scouts until I go pro.” Except that there’s no such thing as certainty when it comes to pro ball. Except that turning down scouts sets a dangerous precedent for all future ones. Except that he’s already at a hell of a disadvantage, coming from Japan, not being perfectly American, not being the tallest or biggest Power Forward.

 

There are a couple of ways to go with this. The first way--just to agree, mindlessly, uselessly, like he'd very much like to, and tell Kagami that someone else will find him, that he'll get scouted later. The other way--the way that makes his heart thump so hard that he thinks he's going to die, the way that he hopes doesn't end up clouding his face over in terrible, disgusting doubt because he doesn't even know if he can choke out the words--

 

_It hasn't happened yet, this isn't finalized, it's too soon to get this upset._

 

Akashi shuts his eyes briefly. "I'm going to tell you something that I've never needed to tell you until this very moment." He steps back out from underneath Kagami's touch, and folds his arms over his chest. "You're an enormous idiot. Why would you _ever_ turn down a chance like this? Make him offer you a deal, get it in writing, and _do it._ " 

 

Kagami stops walking, staring at the small, no less intimidating figure of his boyfriend. His heart sinks, but he shakes his head anyway. “I made you a lot of promises,” he says quietly. “I’m not walking out on this just because of basketball. That’s--that’s not the kind of guy I want to be. I mean, a dream is a dream, but this--” He grabs Akashi’s hand, squeezing tight. “This is a dream too, you know?” God. He can never let Tatsuya find out about this. He’d crow and yell that he was right, that this is just _same old Taiga_ , throwing himself under the bus for some pretty boy’s dick. _And he’d be right,_ part of his mind whispers, and he stomps firmly on it.

 

"If you think throwing away the dream you've had for _years_ for the sake of staying here is a good decision, then you really are an idiot." 

 

It would be so much _easier_ , actually, if Kagami came to him with all of this happening and the conclusion to just go overseas already and chase his goal. As it is, the false presentation of a _choice_ in this--Akashi swallows, brushes it off again, and tugs his hand away with a shake of his head. "You are being handed an opportunity on a silver platter, and you need to take it." 

 

“Don’t get cold on me.” 

 

Kagami’s voice is hurt, quiet, and a little angry. “You can’t be mad at me for this. I didn’t ask for this. You can’t tell me to go if you’re gonna hate me for it, I won’t _go_.”

 

"I'm not _mad_ at you," Akashi immediately protests, frustration edging its way into his voice. "I'm annoyed that you won't take an offer that is _obviously_ everything that you want. If you're refusing because of me--well--then, I'm breaking up with you." It doesn't sound real to say that just yet, but if he says it _enough_ , it'll eventually click, maybe. It makes sense to break up, he tells himself while focusing on being _calm_. It makes _sense_. 

 

Startled shock floods over Kagami’s face. He stumbles back a step, blinking in the soft light of Kyoto that he’d only just grown accustomed to. “You’re--you’re breaking up with me. Don’t--don’t _do_ that!” He swallows hard around a lump in his throat, and tries to remember how to breathe without Akashi’s gentle smile helping him through homework, his challenging glare forcing him to greater heights in basketball, his eager, hungry touch when the lights are off. 

 

His first reaction is exactly what he’d done with Kuroko--to pull back. To let Akashi have what he wants, to run off and lick his wounds somewhere else. _No. That’s what I did last time, but this is different. I’m different. He’s different._

 

Instead, Kagami lurches forward, grabbing Akashi’s shoulders and yanking him close for a bruising kiss, eyes burning with tears already unshed. “Don’t break up with me unless you don’t love me anymore, Seijuurou--I said I’m going to fight, and I _am!”_

 

"I'm breaking up with you because you're being a total and complete imbecile, don't make me say it again!" 

 

Akashi shoves him back, his chest heaving from the effort as he glares up at him--which lasts for about three seconds when he can taste Kagami on his lips, when he looks at Kagami for the _tiniest_ moment. His own expression crumples, what left of his calm disintegrating into a puddle, and he hurriedly looks away, swallowing hard, holding up a hand to ward Kagami from grabbing him again. "If you weren't trying to make me into the reason that you're turning down something amazing, I wouldn't _have_ to break up with you," he miserably says. "Stop it already." 

 

Kagami wants to throw a punch--wants to grab Akashi and _prove_ to him that they’re better together than apart--but the raw misery in his voice gets through even that urge, and instead he sinks down to his knees, burying his face in his hands for a moment. “I hate this,” he says bitterly. “It’s not fair. I should be fucking happy about getting everything I want, but...”

 

_“If you weren’t trying to make me into the reason that you’re turning down something amazing...”_

 

He tries to imagine if it were Akashi, being offered a dream and saying flippantly, _“I can’t do it, Taiga. Because of you.”_

 

_That would be the worst._

 

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. I won’t...you don’t deserve to be in that position.”

 

Akashi falls silent, wavering for a moment, recollecting himself and trying to ignore the horrible way that his eyes keep trying to sting and his throat keeps trying to lock up. A long, deep breath doesn't help, because that, too, is shaky to the point that he feels like he's going to burst into tears. _No, that is going to make all of this so much worse!_  

 

"…When do they want you over there?" His voice is quiet, but at least it isn't horrifically unstable.

 

“School starts first of September,” Kagami says, muffled into his hands. He should probably stand up and get off his knees, but just now, it feels like the weight on him is too much. “After the Inter-High, at least.”

 

"Right." Akashi briefly shuts his eyes, temporarily blocking out the sunlight and a very strong impending headache. "Taiga, please get up, there are going to be people around soon." 

 

Kagami moves automatically, responding to the authority in that quiet voice when his own body doesn’t want to listen to him. “Yeah. Sorry for causing a scene. I just...” He stands, wiping his hands over his face before looking away. “I love you. I know it makes you uncomfortable to hear it, but...”

 

"Can we stop talking about this for right now?" Akashi cuts him off before he sighs, raking a hand back through his hair. "Just until we're somewhere more private." Not that he even knows what else to say, or _do_ \--this is all entirely unplanned for, and he's furious at himself for feeling like it's one of the _worse_ things that could ever happen when it should be one of the best. "I…do you need anything? I need to go back to finish practice up, you're welcome to come, or if you just want to go rest, that's fine, too."

 

“You should go. I’m...I need a minute.” Kagami shoulders his bag from where he’d dropped it, still not meeting Akashi’s eyes. “I’ll be unpacking, come whenever.”

 

"…All right. See you later."

 

Akashi's mental tally throws a fit as he walks his way back to the gym, calm, collected, _fine_. Was that it? What month is it? Excellent. Three months, three months, now _six months_ , a relationship that's a _combo_ breaker with a positive curve, shouldn't he feel proud?

 

"Yo, Akashiiii! What took you so long, we got the trampo--"

 

Akashi grabs the nearest ball, bounces it once, _hard_ , before running it straight to the hoop and dunking it with enough force that the backboard trembles. 

 

"…line," Hayama finishes nervously. "Reo-nee, he's aaalllll yours."

 

It’s one of _those_ days, apparently, and Mibuchi jerks his head at the other regulars, clearing them off the court. “Sei-chan,” he says, as carefully as he can while trying to get a good look at Akashi’s eyes, “are we not having a good day all of a sudden?”

 

"Please don't talk to me for a minute." 

 

For every repetition of _failure failure failure_ that resounds in his head, Akashi repeats a punishing drill, never missing a shot, no matter how his legs start to tremble and his breath is a wet, shaky thing in his chest. Can this even be _classified_ as failure? _He_ did the breaking up--or did he? Is it official? Did they decide that? He doesn't even know, and the uncertainty of it is even more unsettling, making his head pound and his hands shake. 

 

Akashi eventually collapses back onto a bench, burying his face into a towel, trembling and soaked in sweat. "I'm fine," he says, because he knows Mibuchi wants to hear it. "This is fine." 

 

“Yes...how comforting.” 

 

Mibuchi retrieves a lemon water from the nearest vending Machine, wondering how the hell one breaches a topic like this and darting off a quick unseen text while he does.

 

**To: Slut (** ◡ **‿** ◡✿ **)**

**From: Reo**

**Subject: Taiga?**

**Is he ok? Sei-chan is acting WEIRD**

 

“Sei-chan,” he ventures again, once the phone is safely tucked in his pocket, “you know we’re fine in the preliminaries, right?”

 

**To: Girlfriend**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: ???**

**He should be fine? I know he gets back in Japan today.**

 

"I know we are. I'm calculating beyond the Inter-High." 

 

The towel goes on top of his head, and Akashi slumps forward, hands on his knees as he sucks in a slow, _hopefully_ calming breath. His heart rate goes up again. Love that. "I'm wondering who I can put on the court that's least troublesome and can pass decently if I'm doubling up as guard and forward. Not someone like Mayuzumi, just, in general. I need to train up a few first years, anyway."

 

Ah.

 

Mibuchi sighs, brushing his hair back from his face. “Well, then. Nothing to be done about it, is there? If this is a permanent switch, we’ll just need to figure something out, and also you’re too good for him and always were.” His loyalties have never been in question, no matter how charming and virile Kagami Taiga has always seemed.

 

Akashi blinks, jerking his head up suddenly to look at Mibuchi. "Did I say that we broke up?" he asks, confused, trying to backtrack over his previous statements, and finding that they aren't really there to review. "I don't remember that." 

 

Mibuchi reaches out, touching a strand of just-grown-out hair in front of Akashi’s face. “You didn’t really need to, darling. Call it a big sister instinct.”

 

"Ah." Akashi's gaze slides sideways again before his head drops back down, and he pulls the towel over it more thoroughly. "Reo. He got scouted." 

 

“....Ah. That’s...tricky.” Mibuchi lets out a breath, wanting to hug Akashi tightly, knowing he doesn’t _quite_ fit the bill of someone who’s allowed to--then throwing that to the wind and grabbing him anyway, enfolding him in a warm hug. “I’m so sorry, Sei-chan. Just because it’s good doesn’t mean it hurts any less, does it?”

 

 _Every single bit of this needs to happen more privately, anyone can come into this gym,_ some part of his brain desperately warns him, but Mibuchi is warm and solid and impossible to get away from when all he wants is to curl up and…what? Cry? No, he can't do that.

 

What he can do is practically crawl into Mibuchi's arms, stuffing his face into his shoulder and inhaling a long, shaky breath. "I don't even know what to say," Akashi mumbles. "I told him to do it, because it's an amazing opportunity and the chance he's always wanted, he'd be an idiot not to--and he got mad at me for _that_ , because of some nonsense about wanting to fight for me and stay here and so I _had_ to break up with him. He can't be that _stupid_." 

 

“Yes, he can. He’s a boy.” Mibuchi strokes Akashi’s back gently, kissing the top of his head as he slowly rocks. “He’s a boy, and he’s in love with you, and you’re a good enough person not to take advantage of it, and too smart to think you can make it work.” He pulls back slightly, enough to cup Akashi’s cheeks in his hands. “You know that if he stayed he’d probably start resenting it eventually.”

 

"I hate boys," Akashi miserably says, slumping in Mibuchi's hold, his lower lip trembling. "It wouldn't work. The time difference--the…everything. Literally everything." He shuts his eyes. "Reo, I don't want him to hate me. How do I make him not hate me? I don't want to keep talking about this, I don't want to be _upset_ , I just want him to go and do what he's always wanted to do, but if I encourage that, it makes it sounds like I never cared about being with him--and if I focus on the relationship part, it makes me sound like I don't want him to go when I _do…_ " The loop is an audible, infinite one, and the more he thinks about it, the more he's pretty sure his mind will short out.

 

“Hey, hey. You don’t hate me, right?” Mibuchi asks, keeping as kind and gentle as he can when he obviously needs some firmness to get through to Akashi in this sort of looping stage. “Look, we’re still close, and I did the same thing--I ended it with you because I knew it was better for you, better for both of us that way. And look at us.”

 

He kisses Akashi’s forehead, then pulls him close again. “Just tell him, you know, I’ve loved the time we’ve spent together, and god, in another life there’s nothing that could have pulled us apart, and I’m so, so excited to see your brilliant life unfold. I can supply poetry if you need it, there’s some Yosano Akiko that suits very well...”

 

"You're _different,_ though," is the muffled response into Mibuchi's shoulder when Akashi's face lands there again in short order. "And…everything else is different." Details sound _hard_ right now. "I'm terrible at this." It's a sudden, bitter realization. Finally, the one thing that he can't perfect. Akashi swears he's already starting to itch from hives at the idea. "Please don't let me date again. Stop me. Forcibly stop me." 

 

“Sei-chan...” Mibuchi sighs, petting rhythmically. “I hate to suggest this, but maybe you’re subconsciously sabotaging yourself because you know, well, these have to end someday, what with you being engaged and all.”

 

"Why would I sabotage something like this? I got him to transfer schools and move down here, for god's sake. I--…you know what, never mind, I do a lot of things subconsciously and forget about them two seconds later, so--" Akashi lifts a hand helplessly. "Fair enough. But I _really_ didn't do anything this time."

 

“I know, love. Do you think...maybe you should try to get to know your fiancee a little.” It’s sort of a last resort, but what does Mibuchi have to lose by suggesting it? “Maybe you’ll feel better if you know that the person who sort of _has_ to be with you is looking forward to it.”

 

"…That's…it's not a terrible idea." It's also something else to focus on, which he sorely needs. "It's not like my father wouldn't be thrilled," Akashi murmurs, then grimaces. "What even is her _name_. It'll come to me, I'm just stressed. Reo, let me go, I need to run drills until I pass out." 

 

“As long as you let me pick you up and carry you back to your dorm once you’re thoroughly exhausted,” Mibuchi says with a little hum, and lets go at last. “Here--I’ll even run them with you.”

 

After one quick text.

 

**To: Slut (** ◡ **‿** ◡✿ **)**

**From: Reo**

**Subject: Taiga**

**Check on him. He’ll need it.**

 

**To: Girlfriend**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: Already on it**

**do not let yours around scissors**

 

Peaceful weekends? What are those? Himuro sighs, dials Kagami's number, and leaves it at that.

 

“Hey.”

 

Kagami thinks he should be congratulated for answering at all, even if he does just have his phone laying on his pillow next to his bed, voice flat and emotionless. “Sup.”

 

"Back in Japan already, huh." Himuro kicks his feet up onto his desk. Right, it's time to narrow down who he has to punch. "You sound salty about it, what's going on?" 

 

“Something...weird happened. Ugh, you’re gonna hate me.”

 

"Try me."

 

“I got scouted. By Bishop Montgomery, in Torrance. They want me to be starting Power Forward, saw some dumb video of me and Aomine going one-on-one on Nico.”

 

Himuro's first reaction is to blurt out _you're right, I really hate you_ , but he stomps that down, shuts his eyes, and reminds himself repeatedly that acting like that is a shitty way to be. "And you don't sound more excited about this…why? Taiga, what the fuck. That's awesome. I know the video you're talking about, _everyone_ in the Japanese high school basketball circuit knows about that stupid video. You can't tell me you're surprised this happened."

 

“ _I_ didn’t know there was a stupid video up!” That’s avoiding the question and he knows it, and Kagami blows out a breath, sending his bangs flying. “It’s just really inconvenient timing. I was gonna go back _after_ high school and play college ball. This is messing everything up--and I literally _just_ moved.”

 

"Cry me a fucking river." _Now_ he can be snippy about this, because he did the nice, encouraging thing first, more or less, and Kagami's getting on his nerves. "You're being a whiny baby about getting _scouted_. Are you for real?"

 

Kagami is quiet for a moment, then covers his eyes, dreading what he’ll hear next. “Seijuurou broke up with me.”

 

Himuro bites back a few very resounding _duh, you idiots_ and heaves a sigh instead. "That sucks, Taiga. But you're gonna be in the states, so what'd you expect? Get another boyfriend once you're there." If he's not brisk and callous about this, Kagami's going to start wailing about it. If he hears _one thing_ about how Kagami wants to stay behind because of some guy, Himuro is pretty sure he's going to have to go down to Kyoto and kick him in the balls.

 

Kagami grunts, turning onto his side, laying on the phone. “Alex said if I turned this down because of a dude she’d punch me in the throat. And that if it was because of you she’d punch you in the balls. So at least I’m sparing you that.”

 

"She's got the right idea. I was just thinking about how I'd need to get on the next train down there and beat you up if you were seriously considering staying behind because of some pretty boy." 

 

“He’s not _just_ some boy. I love him.” Kagami scowls at his own room when that sounds stupid. “And going to Bishop isn’t the same as getting _signed_ , it’s just a good chance. I dunno, it just...it seems like giving up a lot. I like Rakuzan, it’s a good team.”

 

"Who the _hell_ from the NBA is going to come to Japan and see you play at Rakuzan, though?" Himuro presses, raking a hand back through his hair. "You make me want to shake you, Taiga. You're in love with him and you'll be in love with the next guy you meet in America. Chill out already and focus on basketball, that's what is going to make you happy, not some _guy_."

 

“I hate when you’re right,” Kagami mutters. “If...if it’s worth anything. I do love him. And he does make me happier. But quit yelling at me, I’m going. Just needed to hear it from you.”

 

"One of these days, you're gonna stop needing everyone's validation and you're going to be happy about wanting the things you want," Himuro sighs. "Taiga…I don't want to hear about your boyfriend, but I'm gonna tell you one thing--it's not like it was going to be long-lived, anyway. You're not going to be able to spend the rest of your life with him. You _never_ were going to be able to do that." 

 

“Insider information?” Kagami asks wryly. He stares at one wall, and a photograph pinned there of himself hugging Akashi from behind, both of them laughing. “I’ve been getting that for months. People kinda talking about when we break up, not if. Mentioning that fiancee.”

 

"Then--you're not gonna want to hear this, but deal--it's better like this. It's not because of a fiancee, it's because you have to go and be badass off in the states." 

 

“That _does_ sound better,” Kagami admits. “Is...is it bad I didn’t even think about trying to make long distance work? I mean, there’s Skype, and phones, and planes...it’s not like either of us are hurting for money, and my dad wouldn’t care if I wanted to come back once every month or two, but...I dunno, after living in the same dorm it just doesn’t sound the same. I think...I think it’s because I know it’s not gonna change.” He bites his lip. “You know they won’t even issue him a passport? National security or something.”

 

"It's a dead end, Taiga." Himuro does sound sympathetic this time, and he is, really. It sucks, and hearing how audibly fucked up about it Kagami is does things to him--like make him want to get on a train and stay down in Kyoto for the week because necessary aggressive cuddling, and playing against Kagami one-on-one until he calms down, just a little. "The time difference sucks. He's busy as hell. You'd never get to talk to him, and you'd be going crazy. You need a boyfriend that's over _there_ , and actually with you." 

 

“I dunno. I mean, yeah.” Kagami’s laugh is humorless. “My standards are gonna be...pretty high, after this. Maybe I’ll take some time off the whole dating scene. Hell, it’s L.A. Maybe I’ll get a fake I.D. and sneak into a gay club. God, my dad would kill me.” The thought sounds kind of nice.

 

"Coming from me, this probably means shit, but do not do this. You can be stupid and openly gay _after_ you get famous, not before." 

 

“....Yeah, good point. Fuck, now I _really_ can’t screw this up, can I? Not if I’m giving all this up for the damn dream. God.”

 

"So when do you want me to come down and one, kick sense into you, and two, help you move?" Himuro deadpans, rapidly shifting topics before Kagami can get on a tangent again.

 

“After the Inter-High. I’ll be in California by September, so...end of August? At least I get to do this tournament with them.” Regret wells up in Kagami’s throat, and he sniffs before getting control of himself. “T-Tatsuya, I’m gonna hang up on you for a while, okay?”

 

 _Oh my god I'm getting on a fucking train_ is the first, horribly obnoxious thought Himuro has, and he sucks in a slow breath to stop from being stupid. He doesn't need to get on a train to see Kagami, not _yet_ , but if this continues, he will. "Yeah. Okay. Take it easy. For what it's worth, I think you're making the right decision." 

 

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.”

 

He manages to hang up just before the tears actually start, and he pulls a blanket over his head in hopes that anyone who shows up in the next few minutes will think that it’s just Kagami Taiga’s Quivering Blanket Lump. He can dream.

 

~

 

Kagami has never waited so long for a halftime buzzer, or so it feels.

 

This was always going to be a difficult match. Going up against Kuroko and Aomine isn’t something that sounded nice at the best of times--and doing it when he’s already annoyed to the breaking point with Akashi for a dozen small reasons isn’t making him any happier with life. Bad enough that practices have been strained and tense lately. Bad enough that Akashi has been avoiding him. Bad enough that Mibuchi, Nebuya, and Hayama had taken him aside after the last game and urgently instructed him to _stop fighting him, stop trying to assert your dominance, we like it so, so much when he uses ‘ore’ and is cute, and you’re being an asshole!_

 

He still hadn’t thought Akashi would actually _bench_ him. Not against Seirin, no matter how much he may have been hogging the ball, no matter how fired up he’d gotten against Aomine’s cocky, smug face.

 

The second the buzzer sounds, Kagami explodes off the bench, grabbing Akashi by the collar and trying not to simply pick him up off the ground. “What the hell was that about, _Captain_?” he spits, hot with fury. “You _need_ me out there! Don’t take me out just because you think I’m being _selfish_ \--you’re the one who told me to play as hard as I could and leave with no fucking regrets!”

 

Hayama is the first to dart over, positioning himself artfully between the scene unfolding and one of the referees that could get a _very clear glance of it_. Halftime or not, this isn't the kind of thing Rakuzan needs to have a rep about. "Kagami, man, come on! I-it's fine, cool your head--"

 

"It's fine, Koutarou." A muscle in Akashi's jaw twitches in irritation, and he lifts a hand, firmly planting it on Kagami's wrist. "I don't think you're being selfish. I _know_ you're being selfish. This isn't a game where one person needs to do every single bit of the scoring. You're on a team that's highly capable, what makes you think you need the ball every single second we're out there?" 

 

“He’s _challenging me!_ ” Kagami tries not to sound like a petulant child, and tries harder not to stamp his feet. “You _know_ this is important to me--you know I have a score to settle, and we’re twenty points up _anyway_ , so what’s the problem?”

 

"What score do you have to settle?" Akashi snaps, his own increasing frustration starting to get the better of him. "You defeated him last year at the Winter Cup. If it's something personal, then I frankly don't care; this isn't a team for personal crusades. If you want that, take off our jersey and go back to Seirin." 

 

He dislodges Kagami's hand with a sharp yank backwards, brushing past him and snatching up his water bottle. "I'm going outside. Reo, come get me when it's five minutes till." 

 

“Will do, Captain.” Mibuchi sounds more tired than anything, and he gives Kagami what can only be called a glare. “What did we say? Leave him _alone_ , shut up and do your job as a power forward!”

 

“I know, I know!” Kagami shouts. He shakes his head, hair standing up all over the place, and stalks out of the gym in the opposite direction of Akashi, searching for something to cool his hot head.

 

"You look like a hot mess, Taiga." 

 

Himuro Tatsuya, somewhat harried looking himself (and _clearly_ taking a moment to escape the weird crowd of his own team), falls into pace with Kagami nonetheless, long legs making it an easy task even when Kagami is running more than walking. "Not working out with an ex as a captain, huh." 

 

Kagami doesn’t pause, making his way rapidly to the nearest water fountain and dunking his head underneath. “Yeah. Surprising, huh? I’m a fucking idiot, I _know_ , I know, I just--”

 

" _Chill_." 

 

Himuro steps back to watch him and sighs. "Is it because you're not getting laid, or because you genuinely think you're not being a complete nut job on the court?" 

 

Kagami pulls back, shaking his head out and looking every inch the wild man. “Nut job? I’m, it’s Aomine and Kuroko, man! I--and he _didn’t_ have to break up with me, it’s not _my_ fault, why the hell would he want to throw away our last couple fucking months together?!”

 

"Stop yelling at _me_ , or I'm gonna drown you in that water fountain," Himuro bluntly says. "Do you want a cigarette or something?" 

 

Kagami starts to say something, then stops. He’s too tense, nerves too high, and he knows how close he is to saying something he’ll regret. Better than that-- “Hit me.”

 

"Seriously." Himuro shrugs. "Scale of 1 to 10, how hard." 

 

It’ll be easier just to make him mad, Kagami decides. “You’re a twink, I’m always gonna be better than you, and Hirofumi _is_ your real dad.”

 

It's kinda reflex to hit as hard as he can when Kagami's spewing that kind of shit. Himuro sees red, feels his fist connect to Kagami's jaw in the next second, and he's looking around in the next minute to make _sure_ no one saw them doing this. "Fuck you, I'm going to kick you, too. Get on the ground." 

 

Kagami grunts, adjusting his jaw to make sure it isn’t broken, and spits out blood onto the ground. “No, no, that was good. Sorry.” He sucks in a deep breath, then nods. “Okay, I’m good. Thanks.”

 

"I still think you belong on the ground," Himuro flatly states, shaking out his hand with a snort. "Dumbass. Anyway, now maybe I can tell you that you look like an idiot out there. I get it's Aomine and your _other_ ex, but, uh…aren't you friends with them? What are you trying to prove?" 

 

“I dunno. Got stuck in my head. Weird energy.” From this vantage point, all Kagami can see is how stupid he’s been, even if the well of hurt he feels when he sees Akashi hasn’t changed at all. “Not getting laid isn’t _helping_ , I guess, but it’s not about that.”

 

"Then listen to me when I tell you, as the captain of another team _and_ your big bro." Himuro plants a hand on Kagami's shoulder. "You look like a fucking idiot. Everyone knows why you got subbed out in the second quarter, and it's because you were a ball hogging mess that just made Aomine want to score more aggressively. Not cute." 

 

“I’m just...” Kagami wipes his forearm backwards over his mouth, rubbing away the last drops of blood. “An idiot, I guess. Thanks.” He gives Himuro a little punch in the shoulder, then jogs back inside, itching to meet his fate.

 

On the other side of the stadium, Akashi actually makes it completely outside, needing fresh air more than anything he's ever needed in his life. 

 

Tokyo is hot and balmy, and dumping out the entire contents of his water bottle over his head is the first thing he does. The second is take stock of who else is doing the exact same thing--and he sighs through the throbbing ache of his head. Today, he wearily notes, is not the good day he had woken up hoping it would be. "Sorry for taking away your fun, Aomine." 

 

Aomine snorts, leaning back onto his folded hands. “Doesn’t matter to me who I beat,” he lies. “C’mon, today was always gonna be weird. You’re in good shape, looks like.”

 

"I'm something, all right," Akashi grouses, raking a hand back through his bangs. He slumps back against the side of the building, out of the sun. "Today was going to be strange, yes, but…more importantly, I heard you received an offer." Someone is clearly in the business of collecting power forwards. Brilliant. 

 

“...Kinda.” Aomine rubs a hand over his head, frowning. “Same one as that idiot, I guess. They said if I could move to America I could go to that school, but...” He shrugs, a little uncomfortable with that line of thinking. “Can’t make it happen. Don’t tell Tetsu, he only knows the other side of it. They said if I made best four of all the tournaments from here through the end of high school with better than a forty-point average per game, they’ll stick me in some college and pay for it. Fucking brutal. If, uh, it seems like I’m being a ball hog, well...” He grins with a flash of white teeth. “Get better at taking it away from me.”

 

"Hmm." Akashi thinks back over the course of their current game, his head tilting contemplatively. "Well. It's an attractive offer. You've already scored twenty-nine points this game. Skirting the low end of an average is never good, so I'll allow you twenty-one more, if you can manage them. But you won't win." 

 

“We made best four,” Aomine points out. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you take this away from me.” He stands, then lets his hand rest on the wall next to Akashi’s head, leaning down until their faces are close, close enough to touch, and his voice drops low. “I’m planning to make you all taste defeat. Especially you and that guy. No hard feelings--I just really want to prove who’s better.”

 

Akashi's eyebrows slowly raise, and hopefully, that's the only change in his face. Staying impassive in moments like these is something to be relished… _if_ he's nailing it. "He'll be on the bench for the rest of the game," Akashi tells him, meeting Aomine's gaze head on. "So I'm your opponent. From what you've told me of your offer, I'm taking nothing from you by winning, so I won't feel bad about that." 

 

“Wouldn’t want you to feel bad anyway. Too bad you won’t win.” Aomine _remembers_ this Akashi, and maybe that’s half of the reason for his current grin. “Glad you’re back. You were always fun to poke.”

 

"You'll regret it on the court," Akashi airily reminds him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. This is _much_ more enjoyable than having a fit about Kagami Taiga, and how arguing with him (or even just looking at him) makes him want to fully submerge himself into a vat of acid. "I'll mark you this quarter, it'll be fun." 

 

“Dunno about that. You really think you can handle fun?” Aomine wipes some of the sweat he’d accumulated in the first half onto the bottom of his uniform, pulling it up to show off hard abs. “That stick must really be out of your ass for you to say something like that.”

 

"I'm fun," Akashi defensively retorts, and does _not_ have the self-control not to look at bare, sweaty skin and contemplate licking it. _Oh dear god, I'm such a basic teenager_ , is the thoroughly mortified thought he hastens to sweep his gaze upward again with only a brief gnaw on his lower lip. This is him minus sex for a couple of weeks, _apparently_ , which is all kinds of pathetic. "I'm very fun. Especially when it comes to basketball." 

 

“Yeah. I always have fun running you around the court.” Aomine licks his lips, eyes dark and intent on Akashi because shit, he _has_ always been kind of good-looking...

 

A polite cough from the side makes him look up, and he rolls his eyes, pulling away. “Your babysitter is here. See you on the court, Akashi.”

 

“Sei-chan, am I interrupting anything?” Mibuchi asks sweetly, eyes very much locked on Aomine.

 

"Ah, no," Akashi hastily replies, ducking sideways and fairly convinced that he's not flushed or looking like he's ready to climb Aomine like a tree. "Let's go, Reo. See you on the court, Aomine."

 

“Yeah. I’ll be watching.”

 

“We’ll all be watching,” Mibuchi snaps, and coughs something that could be _whore_ or _poor_ or _door_ , leaving it open for interpretation and insult. He puts a delicate hand on Akashi’s shoulder and asks gently, “Sei-chan, are we acting out because Taiga is being so brutish, or is this just something that’s going to _happen_ from now on?”

 

"Acting out?" Making his brain turn off about long, lean muscle and broad shoulders and sweaty skin is pretty difficult when he knows that he's going to be playing Aomine in precisely four minutes, but Akashi does make a valiant attempt. "I'm not acting out," he crossly replies. "We were just having a conversation."

 

“You were looking at him like you wanted to have him for dinner. And unless I’m mistaken, and I’m not, he’s _very_ taken, isn’t he?”

 

Akashi pauses, processes, and says, "Ah. Right. I forgot about that." 

 

“Yes, well, mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean we have to walk headlong into them, does it? Are we feeling a little less rebellious now, Sei-chan?” Mibuchi would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. But then, he’s usually worried.

 

"…What am I feeling less rebellious about, exactly." 

 

Before Mibuchi has a chance to answer, Kagami Taiga hurries over, not looking Akashi in the eyes. Then, very deliberately, he drops down to his knees, and then rests his head against the ground, as awkwardly as if he’s only seen it in a movie once or twice. “Captain. I’m sorry for the way I behaved.”

 

Mibuchi looks around at the stadium full of people, then laughs nervously. “Ah.”

 

This is a stark reminder that they are playing basketball and he is still dealing with the aftermath of a messy, awkward breakup. Akashi suppresses a groan, shutting his eyes briefly for strength. "I appreciate the gesture and you're forgiven, so please stand up. In the future, I'd prefer it if you also didn't do this in such a public manner…" It's not like his reputation for being a veritable warlord has suffered, even after the Winter Cup loss. Is that a _good_ reputation to have? A terrible one? He has yet to determine this.

 

Mibuchi leans down to whisper in Akashi’s ear, “Be nice, Sei-chan. He’s trying.”

 

Kagami straightens up, one side of his mouth swollen, shoulders tense. “I won’t do it again. I was acting like a brat, and I’m sorry.”

 

 _This is me trying!_ Akashi wants to say, and wavers between that and telling Mibuchi to stop _hovering_ before he glances back at Kagami, his brow furrowing. "…What did you do to yourself?" he asks, a layer of ice melting in a second no matter how he tries to avoid it. He reaches up to gingerly touch Kagami's swollen face. "Honestly, Taiga, take care of yourself properly." 

 

The game buzzer sounds, and Akashi hesitates before rocking backwards and withdrawing his touch. "Thank you for your apology," he says. "You're on the bench still." 

 

Kagami nods shortly. It’s not like he can argue, not after his little show of aggression in the first half. “I’ll cheer you on,” he promises. “And in the finals, I’ll crush them with you.”

 

“Sei-chan, it’s starting,” Mibuchi urges, trotting off to the court.

 

Akashi nods, sparing Kagami a last glance before shaking it off--now is _not_ the time to be distracted, he knows that most of all--and follows after Mibuchi in short order. 

 

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko greets at the tip-off. "Still not letting Kagami-kun play?"

 

Now, he's faced with 192…5…--more? Aomine is tall--centimeters of another problem. This one, at least, Akashi feels prepared to handle. "He's not necessary right now," he simply says. 

 

“He’s going easy on us,” Aomine teases, settling into a crouch for the tip-off. “Maybe he’s trying to make it last. Don’t worry, Akashi--we’ll play as rough as you want.”

 

 _Vaguely erotic. Stop that._ Is this middle school again? Does he just not react to blatant sexual innuendo? No, he's better than that. He can fight back. "Oh, good," Akashi says, his face still impassive. "I _do_ like it rough." 

 

It's worth it, for the flash of wary surprise over Kuroko's face, and Rakuzan's grab for the ball when the whistle sounds is even more effective than precedented. _Sorry, Aomine, Kuroko, Momoi--this is our win, it's already obvious._

 

An obvious win it may be, but in the end, Seirin’s newly-reformed high school team holds their line until the end, fighting aggressively for every point--with the exception of Aomine. Twenty-one points later, and the coach has no choice but to take him out after Akashi simply stops letting him have the ball, once and for all.

 

By the time the teams line up to bow, Aomine is decidedly twitchy, on-edge with nerves, the mirror image of Kagami on the bench. He bows, eyes locked with Akashi’s the entire time, promising some sort of retribution.

 

It’s with that in mind a few minutes later that he drops out of the group headed for the Yosen-Shuutoku game. “Save me a seat, Tetsu. I gotta take a leak.”

 

Kuroko nods, though not without giving Aomine a solid glance up and down. Disappointed as he might be, being able to put up such a respectable fight in the semifinals with a newly formed team that has _Aomine_ on it…that's a nice feeling. It's just a matter of making sure Aomine feels the same. "You're being very twitchy," he says point blank. "Don't come back and sit next to me unless you've gotten some of it out of your system. Okay?" 

 

Aomine looks around, eyes a little glazed. “We’ll see. I’ll figure something out.” He ruffles Kuroko’s hair until it looks like his bedhead, then takes off, running for the bathroom to work out some of the tension. 

 

He’d been prepared to give his all, at the end. He’d readied that energy, then had to force it down when he’d been benched. If he runs a few kilometers as hard as he can, he might feel better. Or--maybe if there’s a girl around, Kuroko won’t mind too much if he gives her a tour of the locker rooms and nails her hard against a wall. 

 

First things first, even if it takes him forever to pee when he’s tense like this.

 

Not two seconds later, Akashi walks in, and just has to sigh. 

 

 _Honestly_. He'd done a very good job of taking this victory as a balm to his nerves. Winning matches like this one work very well for that, especially when they are an actual challenge. It applies a pleasantly glazed filter to the world around him, for at least a few minutes if no more--but that's soundly broken by the sight of Aomine Daiki. Even bathrooms and locker rooms are no longer safe. 

 

 _At least it's not Kagami, who I really can't handle at the moment,_ he thinks to himself. "Nice game," is the only thing he dare offer, because hell if he knows how Aomine handles defeat anymore. 

 

Aomine’s pulse thrums the second he locks eyes with Akashi, as he tucks his cock away. It feels as if his mind is trying to tell him something, but right now, his body isn’t listening. 

 

The next second, he crosses the room in two long strides, slamming both hands into the lockers on either side of Akashi, trapping the smaller man’s body there with his own, far larger one. He doesn’t speak, only stares for a moment, hungry and eager, before crushing Akashi back with his own body, shoving his tongue down his throat in a moment of sudden feral hunger.

 

_Better. This is better. Stupid, but better._

 

Flashbacks to _their_ game, centered in nothing but the third quarter, slam into him like a freight train. His pulse skyrockets, his heart thuds out of his chest as if he's still facing off against Aomine on the court, and the tension snaps into something that feels overwhelming like relief as Akashi surges up with a groan, fisting both hands into Aomine's jacket, his teeth sinking into that lower lip for a sharp pull. 

 

 _Good_. 

 

Aomine rarely lets himself get to this point. Usually there’s something around, some game, some girl, some goddamn porno that he can jerk off until he’s senseless over, some guy to fight. This time, there had been nothing for what felt like far too long, and his entire body is quivering with barely pent-up energy.

 

He turns Akashi around without a word, pressing him facefirst into the lockers. He doesn’t even bother to shuck his jacket, just reaches into the waistband of his shorts to pull his cock up, already hard from the game itself, and yanks down Akashi’s shorts in turn. This isn’t going to be sweet or loving or romantic; it’s going to be brutal and fast, and just what they both need.

 

Akashi hits the lockers with a grunt, hissing out a breath as his fingers curl against metal. His mind sizzles to an abrupt, cathartic stop, and the only thing that gets past the way his cock throbs is the mostly random, dazed thought of shoving a hand into the pocket of his own jacket to pull out a condom--because _that_ is the kind of person he is now, apparently. 

 

Shoving it back into one of Aomine's hands with a pointed stare over his shoulder should get the point across. _It has lube on it, you should be thanking me_ is the other thing he'd like to say, caught up in his throat and then quickly deemed unnecessary. 

 

There’s a brief grunt of annoyance, followed by the crinkle of the wrapper and a moment of grumpy fumbling. Then one big hand presses against the back of Akashi’s head, holding his face against the cool metal of the locker as the thick blunt head of Aomine’s cock slides up the crack of his ass to press at that tight hole for just a second before pressing inexorably inside.

 

There’s a brief second of harsh, heavy breathing. Then Aomine growls low in his throat, and starts to move, slamming Akashi into the lockers with every thrust, grinding deep and fast into his ass.

 

There _must_ be a better method to keeping one's voice down, but Akashi does not yet know it, and so biting down hard into the back of his own arm is a necessary evil. 

 

He doesn't care. Aomine isn't careful with him, doesn't wait, doesn't care either, and that feels better than it should. The cock in his ass is thick and _long_ , making him arch up onto his toes whenever it's shoved all the way inside, and Akashi clenches down with a hard, aching shudder, hearing the obscene, slick drag and slap of skin over his own thudding pulse, but just barely. 

 

With Kuroko, Aomine is a talker. He usually is, teasing and ordering and murmuring. Not today. The only noise he makes when he’s buried in Akashi’s ass is a deep rhythmic grunt, sometimes a growl, hot and heavy with every hot and heavy thrust into his willing ass. 

 

At some point, he shifts his weight, lifting Akashi easily into the air to force him to sink down entirely onto his cock, bouncing him like that, taking away all the leverage he has. His eyes lid at that, with how deep he is inside, with how much he can feel his cock swelling as hard as it can get, stretching Akashi out and stuffing him full all at once.

 

The only thing that Akashi manages is a breathy " _fuck_ ", one hand desperately reaching and clawing helplessly at the lockers, the other clamped over his mouth as he writhes down as much as he _can._ Every breath, every _swallow_ makes it feel like Aomine is deeper in him, and Akashi's breath hiccups unevenly in his chest when he gives up trying to arch back and try to control some of the pace. Letting Aomine do it is _fine_ , he dazedly decides, his cock so hard that his eyes are starting to cross. Usually, he'd be the first to demand that he's taken care of in a certain way--but ugh, like this, right now, right here…no modifications necessary. 

 

Aomine switches his mind off, and just _fucks_.

 

He doesn’t bother thinking about how Akashi might be feeling, or whether it’s good for him. He doesn’t bother thinking about whether Akashi is in a decent position, whether he’s comfortable. All he thinks about is how great it feels to have his dick shoved inside a tight ass, and rubbing it there because it feels fucking _great_.

 

His hands dig in deep to pale skin, enjoying the fact that they’re leaving marks when he slams in deep, hearing the obscenely loud slap of skin on skin with every urgent thrust. He feels the tension building, and gives himself over to it at once, flooding the condom with a series of short, sharp thrusts, the first time he’s gotten off without caring whether his partner does in over half a year.

 

Finally, the tension starts to recede, and he’s left with Akashi, and the aftermath of a rough, intense orgasm. “Hey.”

 

Akashi wobbles, thinks about refocusing, and fails miserably for what is at _least_ a minute. 

 

That could be worse. 

 

No, the one and only annoying thing about all of this is getting off when he's not really zoned in on it. His nerves are still buzzing, his muscles trembling, but the sticky mess dripping down his thighs really is a pretty solid reminder that he did come, at some point, definitely. "Mmn. What?" Akashi eventually, lowly rasps, letting his head thunk hard against the lockers. He _aches_. It's like a deep bone ache, and _surprisingly_ pleasant.

 

“Mm. Just...hey.” _Saying I just realized who you are and what we were doing_ doesn’t sound very good. Aomine reaches around, pawing at the front of Akashi’s shorts. “You still hard? Want help?”

 

"Don't grab at me unless you're going to do me again," Akashi huffs, halfheartedly batting Aomine's hand away. "I…definitely came, thanks." _With you literally throwing me around and fucking me like I was a doll. Nice. More basic by the day, Akashi Seijuurou._  

 

“Oh. Good.” Aomine pulls his hand away, then slides back, pulling the condom off and throwing it to splat in the nearest trash can. “Gross. Anyway, good game.” He slaps Akashi’s ass with a relaxed little chuckle, then heads out of the locker room, nerves finally quiet.

 

Is that seriously how _easy_ it's going to be? Akashi's left blinking, vaguely stunned, and…extremely relieved. 

 

Okay. _Good_. Then he regrets nothing, especially when his thoughts are now neatly collected things, satisfied and inordinately pleased with one: winning, and two: _easy,_ surprisingly satisfying sex.

 

Five minutes later, cleaned up and only _marginally_ wincing when he drops himself down next to Mibuchi in his saved seat, Akashi does realize that he's made a grave mistake. It's Mibuchi. He _will_ know. The only thing to do is distract him. "How's your boyfriend faring?" 

 

“You know, I can’t even tell?” Mibuchi whispers back, sparing a glance to look Akashi up and down. His face changes, but he clearly bites down a comment, saving it for later. “His team looks like they’re either on drugs or have never met each other before. They keep scoring points by sheer luck...I _think_. Either that or it’s a strangely clever strategy.”

 

"…I can't decide if I'd rather face that in the finals, or Shutoku." Akashi gives him a look when it's very obvious that he's been Found Out. _Later, if you want to lecture me, thank you._ He spares a glance out over the court, frowning. "Shutoku isn't playing in the same style from last year, though. I've been remiss, I should have talked to Shintarou more recently." 

 

“If I didn’t know better,” Mibuchi says slowly, “I’d say they were being sabotaged by someone on their own team. Watch for me, Sei-chan. You’re the point guard, you’re better about this kind of thing.”

 

The plays are obviously not the same--even a child could see that, but that's not the issue here. It's whether or not said plays are working to their exact specifications.

 

It's subtle, but a fine-tuned slowness to passing and a few deliberate missteps here and there is all it takes. "It's a testament of skill to watch them lose," Akashi dryly says. "Their point guard has gotten better." 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Mibuchi says with a sigh, sitting back in his chair and watching through lidded eyes. “Looks like we’ll be playing Yosen in the finals if Shuutoku gets their way, then. Whoo. This will be a weird match. Why do you think he’s doing it?”

 

"…Someone yelled at Shintarou?" Akashi wearily suggests. "That's literally the only motivator I've seen." 

 

“Didn’t that happen last year, too?” Mibuchi leans forward again, unable to look away from the subtle changes, the way the ball reroutes, is stopped, and redirects. “The captain, do you think? Or is it some kind of affection for the Yosen boys?” Whatever it is, at least one member of Shuutoku is throwing the game.

 

"Yosen's a team of first years and then Himuro, so I doubt that." When Takao goes to throw a pass to Midorima, it's clearly already going to be a failure--because it's on the wrong side, notably aimed to his right hand. Midorima doesn't even as much as flinch when it's a miss that gets the ball stolen from them both, and Takao doesn't even apologize. "Maybe the captain. Someone has them both upset; not Ryouta, he can't do anything." Except sulk in this match, mostly, and not really understand why the ball is not coming to him immediately. 

 

Mibuchi looks at the court again, and squints. “I really only remember Takao,” he admits freely and without shame, “and Midorima a little, but--I don’t remember number four from last year. Their captain wasn’t a regular?”

 

"No. His brother was. That small forward that--"

 

"He was fun to mess with!!!"

 

"Yes, Koutarou. We remember." 

 

“Ah. Nepotism at its finest, then. Good to know.” Mibuchi sighs, tugging down the sleeves of his jacket. “It would have been _so_ easy to play them. Now we get Team Oddball. Who somehow, let’s not forget, made it to the semifinals _without_ every team throwing their matches.” His stupid not-really-boyfriend could look more pleased with himself. As it is, Himuro looks like he wants to rip off the hoop and beat his entire team with it.

 

"Yosen always is something of a strange crowd, no matter what," Akashi sighs, rocking back into his seat. "Whatever, that should make it interesting. We'll win, of course, but it will be interesting."He drops his voice to add wryly, "If you're going to see him tonight, do us all a favor and ask what is up with those twins. Why are they still switching positions from center and power forward even now?"

 

“See him tonight? Why would I do something like that?” Mibuchi is absolutely going to see him tonight, and has in fact already made a reservation for a separate hotel room. “Sei-chan, you can’t be concerned that I’d divulge player or team secrets to slime like him, can you?”

 

"Sometimes, Reo, it's interesting how transparent you can be." 

 

“We’re from Kyoto, Sei-chan. Even when we _want_ to be clear, it’s just too improper to be blunt.”

 

"That's nice. I'm telling you to at least make use of your evening and maybe quiz the slime on _his_ team, then." He is not jealous. No, he is. He absolutely is. 

 

“Sei-chan, you’re not being indirect enough. You need to tell me to make my evening, spent alone of course, a productive and educational one.”

 

"Reo, this is me being indirect right now." 

 

“And here is mine: you’re improving so much at it, Sei-chan!”

 

"When you say things like that, it makes me want to--" _Grind your face into the court, mostly._

 

"Are we having a Kyoto-ben contest?" Hayama abruptly butts in, leaning half-way across Mibuchi. "I'll win, sorry, Akashi!" 

 

“Talking about winning isn’t very gentle, Hayama,” Mibuchi chides.

 

“No one talk about Kyoto right now,” Nebuya grumbles. “The soba up here is _not_ the same.” He glares sideways at an opposing team, apparently full of people who have told him it is the same.

 

Hayama stares him down. "Sorry, Reo-nee. I forgot, you're the expert about everything." 

 

Getting a bitten-back snicker from Akashi makes Hayama consider it a win. "If you want _good_ soba, you have to go about fifteen minutes from here," Akashi suggests. "There's a shop run by a man from Kyoto--or there was, I wonder if it's still around. We can do that afterwards, or shabu-shabu might be nice…" 

 

Hayama whimpers. "Ohh my god, I'm going to die if we keep talking about food, why are basketball games so long."

 

“I’m gonna eat the ball,” Nebuya grunts sourly. “Fifteen minutes walking, running, or by train? I can run.”

 

“We’re not running to a restaurant, that’s crude.”

 

"I was talking about by train, anyway."

 

"Ei-chan, you don't get to eat the ball, _I'm_ going to eat the ball."

 

Akashi shoots Mibuchi a look. "Do you want to invite your boyfr--sorry, _not_ _-boyfriend,_ too? Unless he has a plan with his team, which seems doubtful." Right, time to make it not-weird and awkward, or at least attempt to do the thing. "Taiga, are you fine with soba?" 

 

Kagami, on-edge and still sore in the face, nods in a startled jerk. “Y-yeah. I mean, yes, please.” He hasn’t dropped a sentence ending in a while, but today has shaken him up more than he’d wanted to admit. “Soba sounds good.” _Not that I did anything worth celebrating._

 

“I’ll text our opponent,” Mibuchi says airily, “and see if he’s free to celebrate his victory.”

 

Akashi frowns at Kagami for a second before glancing away. "Excellent. I might do the same with Shintarou, unless he takes off at the speed of light. He does that, sometimes."

 

The end of the game rolls around, and the tension on Shutoku's team is palpable. Watching their captain seethe is really classless, but Akashi forgoes commentary. "You handle yours," Akashi reminds Mibuchi as they rise from their seats. "Everyone, just meet out front. I promise it won't take long, Eikichi--Taiga, will you come with me, for just a moment?" 

 

Kagami drops back, watching Mibuchi trot up to the court as if he’s just wandered in by accident. “They’re not fooling anyone,” he remarks conversationally, once Hayama and Nebuya’s grumbling stomaches have departed. “Super obvious.”

 

"They're not trying to be subtle," Akashi wearily says, slowing his own pace. "That's what Reo wants. Someone that's going to hold his hand in public and ignore his family and probably get a tattoo of his name on his ass." 

 

“Sounds like Tatsuya. He’d do it just to piss his mother off,” Kagami says, mouth twitching slightly, which hurts. “Must be nice, not having to worry about the future like that.”

 

"Mm. So am I right in assuming he hit you, or did you run into a wall in your blind fit of rage." 

 

“I’m not _that_ bad,” Kagami protests. “I asked him to hit me.”

 

"Sure." On some level, Akashi is fairly certain he will never understand 'typical' men, as Mibuchi calls them. He exhales a long breath, and says with a bow of his head: "I apologize for arguing with you so openly on the court today. I'm hoping today was the last of it, and that we can work together in the finals tomorrow." It sounds too formal, but it's still something that needs to be said. "Taiga, I don't like fighting with you." 

 

Kagami looks down at the ground, less happy now that they aren’t talking about other people. “You’re sorry for arguing, sure. I’m sorry for fighting with you, too. But...I dunno, that’s not the same as being sorry for what we said. I want to play with you tomorrow, as a team member. I _need_ you to respect me as part of that team for that.”

 

"Why do you suddenly think I don't respect you as a part of the team?" Akashi can hear his voice rising already, and he squashes his frustration down firmly. "I don't feel I was ever once out of line for calling you out. Those were genuine mistakes that needed to be brought to your attention, I do the same with the rest of the regulars."  

 

“You didn’t with me like that until we broke up.” Kagami pulls his jacket more tightly around his shoulders, looking unhappy. “If you say this has absolutely nothing to do with, with _us_ , then okay, I’ll believe you. But I _don’t_ think I was bad or out of line enough that you should have come down on me that hard. Correct me, fix me, tell me when I’m messing up, _please_ , sure. Even ride me harder than the other guys. Just, when you were doing it today...it felt like you hated me.”

 

"I don't _hate you_." Akashi exhales a soft breath, glancing aside as he fiddles with his own jacket and tugs it more firmly onto his shoulders. "I am coming down harder on you," he finally says. "Because you're more unpolished than the rest of the team…and because you're going back to America in less than a week, and I want you to be as good as you'll ever be when you do. It has nothing to do with _us_ ; I just want you to be able to really stand out, when you go over there."

 

_I don’t want to go._

 

It’s plaintive, and would be downright childish to say at this point, when his bags are all packed, when the only thing left to do is say goodbye. That doesn’t make it any less true, and his muscles tense with the urge to reach out and touch that he firmly squashes down. “I’ll behave in the finals. Just...please put me in. Let me show you, I’ll do better. For the team.” _For you._

 

"You're going to be in the finals, don't worry about that." Akashi shakes his head. "It's not like I _like_ putting my star power forward on the bench," he gently chides, only hesitating a second before reaching out to give Kagami's shoulder a pat. He regrets it, because just a touch is enough to make his fingers feel electrified. "Just keep your head on straight tomorrow."

 

A shiver goes through Kagami’s whole body, and he swallows hard before nodding. “Y-yeah. Yes. Sorry. I just...I didn’t want that to be how I left Rakuzan. It means more to me than that.”

 

"Well--that's good." So very, very eloquent, there. Akashi swallows, withdrawing his hand and pointedly looking elsewhere. "You should invite Aomine and Kuroko out to dinner with us," he suddenly says, latching onto a subject change while he still can. "I'm going to go grab Shintarou and his hot mess of a menagerie. It'll be eventful, but possibly fun."

 

“Sounds good.” And it gives him time to get his head on straight, which is something Kagami is pretty sure he needs.

 

What he _doesn’t_ need is a strong waft of scent the second he starts walking with Kuroko and Aomine, one that stops him in his tracks for a minute on the way to the soba place.

 

“Something wrong?” Aomine asks, seemingly unconcerned for a man that smells of sex and sweat and Akashi Seijuurou.

 

Kagami has to force himself not to punch Aomine, following dumbly and shaking his head, trying to avoid conversation that doesn’t start with an accusation. Somehow, he manages, delivering Seirin’s two to the soba restaurant before the eating has actually started.

 

When Akashi had mentioned that he 'knew of a soba place run by a guy from Kyoto', that should have been better translated to 'the owner knows my family and if I show up, that means a private room.'

 

Which is exactly what happens, of course--and it's a good thing, because the entirety of their group is in rare form, and shouldn't be let around regular guests at this rate. 

 

"I can't believe your team is so weird, Himurocchi!" Kise is the first to complain. "Losing to first years sucks."

 

Himuro shrugs helplessly. "I hate to say it, but I'm as shocked as all of you--but not as shocked as they're going to be tonight. They seem to think that Tokyo has _real pizza_. Taiga, back me up." 

 

“It’s worse than Dominos,” Kagami answers automatically. “Not their fault, the cheese over here is shit.”

 

“I think cheese is good,” Aomine mutters.

 

“You had sex with Akashi!”

 

Kagami isn’t as good as he’d like about keeping his calm on any day. The room falls silent as he loses it, one fist balled on the table, glaring at Aomine.

 

Aomine shrugs. “Yeah. So?”

 

"Whoa, since when?" is the not-so-hushed whisper Kise hurriedly directs at anyone who will listen--Midorima is the first attempt, and Takao the second, who just pops him in the shoulder. "Owww."

 

Kuroko looks blandly over at Kagami. "Is there any correlation between that and the current conversation, Kagami-kun? If not, why did you bring it up?"

 

Akashi, for his part, tries to _not react_ , because how else does one respond to things like this over dinner, or ever? How did he even _find out?_ Can't anyone mind their own business?

 

Kagami turns to Kuroko, feeling his mild justification for bringing it up--the fact that he’s Kuroko’s friend and this is not going to fly--draining away by the minute. “Wait...you knew? You’re okay with it? I--if you’re going to break up with me for someone, don’t do it for someone that’s going to mess around on you!”

 

Midorima looks Himuro dead in the eye. “You’re his friend, aren’t you? Stop him, there are strangers here.”

 

“At least it’s never a dull moment,” Mibuchi sighs, poring over the menu, looking sidelong in a glare at Aomine.

 

Aomine shrugs again, putting an arm around Kuroko. “None of your business who he dates, is it? Or what I do with my dick. Or is it to who that you’re worried about?”

 

"Kagami-kun--I really don't care who else Aomine-kun sleeps with," Kuroko bluntly says, snuggling into Aomine's side openly. "Even if it's someone like this. It's not like Akashi-kun can keep a man." 

 

There's a chorus of whistles more than anything else, except for the end of the table that is mostly Rakuzan--and Himuro, who shoots back with a sweet smile on his face: "Or maybe his man's got goals outside of couch surfing for the rest of his life, and, you know, people fucking take breaks because of _real_ life plans." 

 

"Holy shit," Takao whispers behind his hand, eyes wide and pretty sure they're about to see a real fight.

 

"Reo-nee, what are the tournament rules about getting into fights outside of the stadium?" Hayama point-blank asks.

 

"Don't get caught," Himuro offers up, knuckles cracking.

 

"Or _refrain_ ," Akashi mutters underneath his breath, his face burning as he pushes back from the table and grabs his jacket.

 

Kagami slams his fist down on the table, much to the surprise of no one, and glares at Kuroko in a way he hasn’t before when the door to the restaurant opens and shuts, leaving them Akashi-less. “Don’t do that,” he says quietly. “Don’t use me against him. That’s fucking gross.”

 

It would be better if the restaurant had chairs he could shove back instead of cushions on the floor, but it’s good enough, and Kagami follows Akashi after a few tense seconds, letting the door swing shut behind him.

 

The sky chooses that moment to open, slamming down rain with the intensity of falling trucks, and Kagami blinks hard in the downpour, scanning the area for that familiar hint of red hair. “Oi! Seijuurou!”

 

Akashi, barely a pair of buildings away when it starts to pour, plasters himself up against the side of one of them, under the narrowest overhang, because that is his luck today, apparently. 

 

Kagami's voice cuts through the rain, and Akashi warily pokes his head out into the rain to catch sight of him. "Go back inside," he calls out. "I'm just waiting for them to stop, it's not a big deal." _Don't make it into a big deal, there's no point in it being a big deal_. 

 

Kagami pulls off his jacket, holding it up over his head as he runs over, then holding it over both of them. “It’s a big deal to me,” he says, loud so as to be heard over the cloudburst. Rain streams down his face, jacket nonwithstanding, but he doesn’t waver. “I’m...I hate this! I miss you so much--tell me you’re happy and I’ll go back inside, I swear, but--”

 

"You have _got_ to stop doing this," Akashi pleads, leaning back into the brick wall again and feeling the dirt of it rub off on his skin, on his own pristine jacket. The rain that still occasionally hits his face is at least enough to keep it from burning so hot, which seems to be reoccurring every time he thinks about the casual, dismissive way that Kuroko talks about him, as if he's not even in the same room. "Taiga. You're going back to America in _three days_." 

 

“Is it so bad to want to spend those three days with you?” Kagami demands desperately, leaning forward enough to stop at least some of the water, even if it surrounds them, permeates through their clothing, soaking them to the bone in a matter of seconds. “I’m going to hate not being with you no matter _what_. Why do we have to start being miserable sooner than we have to?”

 

"And that's not just going to end up feeling like slow torture to you?" Akashi heatedly presses back, his temper at its limit when this is all combined with clutching his own jacket tighter around himself and finding it not to offer a single bit of refuge from rain or wind. "We both know it's going to end, what's the point? I was already dreading graduation in a _year_ , but now there's _this_ , and if we do anything over these next three days, I don't know what I'm going to do or say to make you stay!" 

 

The rain already feels colder than it did a minute ago, and Kagami lets it hit him, letting it match the cold inside him at those words, at the slow realization and awful knowledge inside. “I can’t stay,” he says, and knows fully, finally, that it’s true. “I won’t. This is my dream. I’m going no matter what. The, the point? The point is being happy when we have a chance, isn’t it? Isn’t that the point of _anything?_ ”

 

He steps forward, lowering the jacket to let the weather pour over him, as if there’s a part of him that isn’t already soaked. “If it’s a choice between miserable now and miserable in three days, I’m _going_ to pick the later one every time.”

 

There's a terrible, disgusting part of him that wants to tear Kagami down, to tell him that there's nothing to be gained from going to America right now, he's better off to wait, what is he _thinking_ \--but if Akashi had wanted to jump on that boat, he should have done it when the conversation first came up, not now.

 

So his mind switches gears. Who the hell cares, really, who sees or talks about this and what he's doing. _He_ doesn't ( _wrong_ ). There's nothing left to lose, Akashi concludes ( _wrong, very wrong_ a part of his mind reminds him), and so he grabs at the front of Kagami's shirt so hard that he swears he's going to tear the fabric before stretching up onto his toes and kissing him hard. 

 

Kagami’s arms circle Akashi harder than he intends, scooping him up and pulling him close, kissing him with all the aches and the agony of the past few unfortunate weeks, hearing bones shift and pop when he squeezes probably too hard. At least there’s already water streaming down his head, giving him the perfect excuse to have a wet face, pressed close to Akashi’s as if it’s his last lifeline to the land of the living. 

 

Nothing tastes like Akashi does, smells like him, even in the rain. It shakes Kagami to the core just how much he’d _missed_ this, _craved_ this--but that’s stupid to think about. Better to think about how perfect Akashi feels in his arms, now that the clock is already ticking down on their time together.

 

Wrapping both arms around Kagami's neck and clinging to him doesn't feel like enough. God, but he's glad for the rain--he doesn't want this to be something along the lines of the third time that he's cried and had to apologize for it. Akashi's breath is still a shuddering thing against Kagami's mouth, probably giving it all away, and he huddles against him, twisting his fingers up into wet hair, helplessly knocking his forehead against Kagami's instead of pulling away between kisses. "I don't know what I'm going to do when you're not here," he whispers, _hating_ that he says it, but he warned Kagami, he _did_. 

 

Sometimes, Kagami hates himself. He hates how _easy_ he is, how much Himuro is right, how much he wants to hold Akashi and promise him that it doesn’t matter, his dad can suck it, he’s not going _anywhere_ , there’s nothing better than being right here--

 

“I’m going to miss you so much,” he says instead, voice shaky and low. He tucks Akashi’s head under his chin, holding him as hard as he can, as if that will keep time itself away from them, or something equally dramatic.

 

"I don't want to do this anymore," is the quiet mumble into Kagami's neck. "Kidnap me." 

 

“I’ll do it.” Kagami has never cared too much for things like rules, laws, or people trying to stop him. “You’d like America. Remember what we talked about?” It had been a favorite pastime for those few golden months, turning off their filter of what was possible, just daydreaming about the trips they’d take. “I’ll take you to Venice Beach, and we can eat from food trucks and listen to people sing for money.”

 

 _I don't care where it is, or what we do._ "Sure. It's a plan." 

 

The rain starts to let up as quickly as it poured down, and Akashi dimly remembers where he's standing, and who he's plastered to, plus the circumstances of _why_. "I can't figure out if going back in there would be worse, or not going back," he mutters. "Is it like a dominance thing? Is Kuroko the pack leader and did he scare us off? Do humans even work like that?" Vocalizing the query lines that are usually his thoughts tend to get weird. 

 

Kagami shakes his head, not phased in the slightest. “No way a runt like that is pack leader. Aomine could be, but he’s too whipped--and I left after threatening Kuroko, so we’re not exactly running away with tails between our legs.” 

 

He hesitates for a moment, then adds, as conversationally as possible, “So, I hate that you fucked him. Like... _so_ much. I’m not going to do anything, but like...man. I hate that.”

 

Ah. They're going to _talk_ about this. "It wasn't a… _good_ decision," Akashi hedges, glancing sideways. "Nor was it terribly planned out. Or anything at all, really. Um. It turns out, basketball plus a high sex drive is difficult to handle?" 

 

“I mean, been there.” Kagami swallows around the suddenly sour taste in his mouth. “I just hate it. Whatever, we don’t have to talk about it again. I guess I just wanted you to know.” If Tatsuya and Aomine just have sex now, it’ll be _every_ guy he’s ever been close to, holding out for the combo breaker.

 

"It's not going to be something _reoccurring_ , if that makes you feel any better," Akashi mutters, and tries not to start shivering as he peels his soaking wet jacket off. "Decision time. Brave the restaurant, or back to the hotel? God, we should just eat conbini food and be done with it," he grouses, fishing out his phone gingerly, and attempting to wipe off the screen before giving up.

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Well**

**Do I need to come break up any fights or do you need me at all? Otherwise I'm done, I already got caught in the rain.**

 

“Now you’re speaking my language,” Kagami says with satisfaction. Soba is fine sometimes, just like tofu is, but the regularity with which his new teammates seem to want both is incomprehensible and a little alarming. “Let’s go to the hotel and watch weird TV and cuddle.”

 

**To: Sei-chan**

**From: Reo-nee**

**Subject: Go**

**It’s weird in here, just get out and save yourselves. Tatsuya and I are leaving in a minute too.**

 

**To: Sei-chan**

**From: Reo-nee**

**Subject: um**

**Not Tatsuya. The asshole. You know who I mean. Yosen’s captain. Who I do not call by first name.**

 

**To: Mibuchi Reo**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: You're not subtle**

**Tell Shintarou I'm sorry for dragging him along and skipping out. See you later tonight, have fun.**

 

"I talked to Reo, we're free," Akashi announces, tucking his phone away again and shivering harder when the wind blows, and a smattering of rain smacks into them. "I want the hottest shower. Ugh, I should go over the playbook for tomorrow, Yosen's team is so weird this year…" 

 

“How do you even plan for a team like that?” Kagami asks, mildly baffled himself. He pulls off his jacket, tucking it around Akashi’s shoulders before striding down the street towards the hotel. It’s odd to be back in Tokyo, but as a visitor, as much of a stranger here now as when he’d first joined Seirin. “They make weird mistakes, but they’ve got some brilliant plays, too. You see that Brazillian, number nine? How _tall_ is he?”

 

"I saw enough of their game today to at least have an idea of how they act--and we'll play a very careful first quarter tomorrow," Akashi answers, distractedly nestling into Kagami's jacket even if it's as damp as his own. At least Kagami's is _warm_. How do people put off that much natural body heat? "He's 219 centimeters. Ridiculous." 

 

“That’s like, NBA tall. That’s Shaq tall.” Kagami sighs, jamming his hands into his pockets to keep them warm. “Wish I was that tall. The scout said he was concerned about my height, asked me to keep him posted on any growing I do.”

 

"You're plenty tall and still growing. If you were 219 centimeters, I'd probably want to kill you on principle." 

 

“At least then I wouldn’t have to deal with freaking racism over there. You know there’s never been a Japanese guy in the NBA who wasn’t a point guard? If it weren’t for Tabuse, I’d be the first Japanese-born guy to even get _this_ close.” Kagami scowls, thinking of some of the choice phrases he’d heard while living over there. “You have to prove yourself over and over again. Even then, Tabuse only played like, two seasons before getting waived.”

 

"Well, then it's up to you to break that streak. You'll keep growing, especially if you feed yourself properly while you're over there…and I know I don't have to worry about that with you," Akashi wryly says, rolling to a stop at the first 7-11 that comes along. "Here, let's stock up and not leave the hotel room for the night if we can help it." No guarantees, with Hayama's tendency to beat down his door, but it's worth a shot.

 

“If it weren’t for the game,” Kagami says wryly, “I’d say we should just stay for three days. Man, the finals are going to be weird. I was so sure it was going to be against Shuutoku--my final showdown against Midorima and Kise!”

 

"They threw the match. I don't know the details yet, but I'm guessing some kind of weird rebellion. Who even knows, it's Shintarou." 

 

Kagami stops short, startled. “You really think so? I wouldn’t have thought that guy would do something like that.”

 

Akashi shrugs up at him. "Shintarou has his moments. When he doesn't have a current point to prove against me, he's also going to be far less invested in winning. My guess is his current crusade was a lot more important…Reo's guess is that their captain is a piece of trash."

 

“I don’t know the new guy,” Kagami admits. “The last one was kind of a piece of work, from what I saw. I dunno, not good enough at basketball for me to really pay attention. Most people aren’t.” He grins, a little apologetic. “Sorry. I’m trying to get my game face on for the states.”

 

"If you come back to Japan to visit and are constantly comparing American basketball and Japanese basketball, I'm going to personally school you." 

 

“Get the ruler out, it’s kind of unavoidable. I’ll be watching the _Lakers!”_

 

"Insufferable Americans. I'm never moving over there, it'll be full of people like you." 

 

“You wish. I’m one of a kind.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

If there’s one thing Kagami Taiga hasn’t missed about America, it’s the stunning lack of efficiency. That’s apparent nowhere so much as his new high school, where he’s casually informed with the rest of the student body on the first day of school that the renovation of the new gym is a little over schedule, but shouldn’t take more than a few days.

 

A few days turns into a few weeks, and the leaves are turning brown in crisp October wind before the basketball club first meets in the squeaky-new gym that smells intensely of paint. It’s something of a shock to Kagami to suddenly be surrounded by guys mostly as big as he is, many of them with piercings, one with a mohawk, of a few different races. It’s honestly kind of a relief, after the strange monotony of a lot of Japanese guys coming at him day after day, forcing him to guard far lower than he’d practiced.

 

The biggest surprise is when he turns at the sound of a sharp yell, and finds himself face to face with another Japanese face, handsome and tan, set into harsh lines of disapproval. Kagami gets yelled at three times the first practice for “sloppy” movements, and asked to stay after for a one-on-one to determine the next Power Forward for the starting lineup.

 

 _I’ll show you what a transfer student can do,_ he thinks savagely, with the last dunk of the one-on-one match, eking out a win by a mere one point, a narrower margin than he’d expected. “Not bad, eh?” he calls, dropping down to the ground, footsteps echoing in the near-empty gym.

 

"You're a cocky little shit, but you're good." It's not begrudging or bitter--more exasperated than anything else, especially through his own panting breaths. Whatever; it wouldn't be the first time in his life that giving up the power forward position would be necessary.

 

Nijimura Shuuzou wipes an arm across his forehead, shoving his hair out of his face and leaving it sticking up uncaringly. "Kind of an asshole for barging in as a senior and taking away the captain's position, but what can you do," he sighs, extending his hand to Kagami. Kagami has a few inches on him, and with that jump…inevitable, that he'd snatch his favorite position out from underneath his nose. "Nice job. You play kinda like another brat I used to know from Japan, how long were you over there?" 

 

“Year and a half. Before that, not since I was eight.” Kagami grabs a towel out of his backpack, wiping it across his face, mopping up the freely-dripping sweat. “Way easier to play in the dry heat than all that humidity, huh? I always thought I was gonna die over there.” 

 

He tosses a bottle of Gatorade over to the Captain with a wry grin. “Sempai.”

 

"Don't be gross," is the reflexive growl, and boy, does it take _effort_ not to switch back into Japanese after so long. He catches the bottle, sighs, and downs half of it. "You'd be, what, a second year over there? Don't ask me how I can tell, I can tell. Most of my old teammates were a year under me. _Man_ , you remind me of them." 

 

“Yeah, I dunno why they put me in senior year. Something about not wanting it to look like I repeated a grade, I guess colleges are looking hard at that kind of thing.” Kagami scratches the back of his head, making the hair stand up. “Hey, this might sound weird, but I think I know someone who’s mentioned you before.”

 

"Cool. I could be more famous." Nijimura's mind is half on reorganizing the team--already full of lazy idiots, thinking they don't need to work three times as hard to make up for the past few weeks of missed practice, _ugh_ \--and how at least he can drop his particularly annoying small forward to play the position himself as needed. The other half of his mind is on how his phone keeps buzzing in his bag, and he finally grabs it, flipping it open with a scowl. Five new texts from his little sister, really cute. "I was over there 'till second year in middle school, and we won the Nationals in my first year and were on the way to that in my second, so I guess some people know me." 

 

“With a record like that? Yeah, I’ll bet.”

 

Kagami is about to move on and mention that no, he’d been talking about a friend in Los Angeles, someone who’d absolutely mentioned a hot asian guy and a warehouse break-in, when that sinks in.

 

“Wait. You won Nationals in middle school? I thought Teiko won Nationals every year.”

 

Nijimura blinks over at him, nonplussed. "Yeah, I went to Teiko. I was the captain--well, for a bit. Glad to hear you've been getting a history lesson." 

 

Kagami stares at him for a long second, then sinks down to his knees with a groan. “I’m never going to be free of them,” he mutters. “As long as I live, they’ll keep coming. Who the hell gets to decide what a Miracle is, anyway...”

 

A full-body twitch goes through Nijimura, and he nearly crushes the phone in his hand. "Have they been misbehaving?" he deadpans, already very sure that everyone that was once in his care has been destroying backboards, telling lunatic ghost stories about haunted gyms, and probably making candy in lab coats _again_. _Why._ "Of course you know them. Of course you do, you fucking played basketball over there for more than five minutes. God _dammit_." 

 

“Been schooling them, mostly.” Kagami rubs his hands over his face, trying to remind himself that there’s no such thing as destiny, only freaky weird coincidences. “I, uh, went to school with Kuroko. We won the Winter Cup. Beat Akashi.” Just because Akashi’s the one he’s more in love with than he’s ever been doesn’t mean that hadn’t felt _good_.

 

The odd, startled look that Nijimura gives him says it all, probably. "Huh. Really. With Kuroko?" He hopes he doesn't sound _too_ skeptical, but…he probably does. "Sorry, that's kinda the last thing I expected to hear--on a few levels. Akashi's still playing in high school, cool. What happened to Aho, sorry, Aomine? That guy better still be playing." 

 

Kagami grins. “Oh, he is. I mean, he kinda quit for a while, I guess, when him and Kuroko...” _Just like second year all over again,_ Midorima had groaned, but what if he hadn’t been including the captain in that? Better safe than sorry. “...stopped talking. I dunno, I heard everyone had a big fight. You--you wanna grab something to eat? I can catch you up.”

 

"Fucking idiots," Nijimura mutters underneath his breath, nodding as he throws his bag over his shoulder and sends his sister back a single text, giving her permission to go out to the mall. "Yeah, let's grab something. Man, of course they'd all have a falling out after I left. Lunatics, every single one of them." It's weird, talking about _Teiko_ again, because like hell anyone over in America gives a damn.

 

“Dunno how you managed it. Two of them in the same room is usually two too many for me.” Kagami can’t help the way his eyes trace over Nijimura’s abs when he lifts his bag, a small droplet of sweat running down his neck... _Get it under control, Taiga, it’s barely been a month since you had sex!_ “Burgers good for you? I’m missing In N Out like you can’t believe.”

 

"It's been years and I'm still dying for conbini food, are you kidding me? Let's trade." Nijimura's smile is wry but genuine, and he nods, leading the way out of the fresh, shiny new gym--the _only_ useful thing to come out of the past three weeks, but exponentially too slow. "They were babies back then. A lot easier to handle than you'd think, seriously." 

 

“I only know them as monsters.” Kagami grits his teeth a little involuntarily, following in his new captain’s footsteps as they leave the gym, hopefully heading for burgers. “I can’t do conbinis. They have to warm everything up in those tiny microwaves and can only do one meal at a time, and I eat like ten of those. So either I have to wait forever in the line, or I have to do it all at home.”

 

"Ahhh, so they finally hit puberty," Nijimura deadpans. "It was only a matter of time. Some of them were shorter than me when they were 12, can you believe it? But only _some_ of them. Hey, you've got a car, don't you? I let my little sister drive mine today, because I've lost control of my life." 

 

Kagami grins, and clicks the unlock button on his car, a sleek little number his father had bought him on the first day of school. “Because he wanted me to commute,” he explains, not entirely sure why he feels like it needs an explanation. “My dad. I live like, an hour and a half away. He caved, though. I’m getting an apartment close by here next week.”

 

"…Bullshit," Nijimura says, shaking his head as he opens up the passenger side. "I'd die if I lived an hour and a half away. Good on your dad for fixing that, though. I'm not real into my new power forward being exhausted because of driving in LA."

 

“At least my dad knows LA is a shitstorm to drive in.” Kagami hoists his bag up on his shoulder, and tries not to look like he is so obviously checking out Nijimura’s ass. “You’re really not pissed that I took your spot?”

 

"Uh, no." 

 

Nijimura wants to make a remark about _dumb kids, don't you know how teams work_ , but to be fair, if Kagami's been dealing with the Generation of Miracles… "I lost my power forward spot before, to Aomine," he wryly admits. "I appointed Akashi captain, and the little shit _immediately_ subbed me out. What a piece of work." He sounds affectionate, not annoyed. "Sometimes, other people are going to be better than you. You can either sulk, or you can learn something from it and benefit." 

 

Kagami’s heart thuds, and he trots forward a couple of steps, sliding into the driver’s seat. Damn, Nijimura is _cool_. He turns on the car and immediately flips on the A/C, flooding the car with blessed chill. “You’re probably the only person I’ve heard talk about him without wanting to kill him or commit him,” he says with a sigh. “I went to Rakuzan--for, like, six months? We won the Inter-High together.” His throat tightens, and he stops talking, pulling out of the parking lot, his senses leading him unerringly towards burgers.

 

"Huh. Nice. Of course he went to Rakuzan." Nijimura doesn't elaborate, but if Kagami went there, then he _must_ already get it. He gives him the side-eye for a second, watching Kagami's reactions before deciding not to comment. "I don't know what went down with them after I left, but the whole kill-or-commit debate probably just came up because he's so bossy. I was still wiping the snot off Akashi's face when I left, and watching him fail miserably at being a captain."

 

Kagami grunts, trying not to picture that literally, and feeling a flush creep up the back of his neck at the thought of itty bitty Akashi, messing up and burying his face in Nijimura’s shoulder. “Guess so. Kuroko said he has...I guess he’d say it was another personality, or something. Some kinda sickness. Mental thing. Guess that sucks.”

 

"Everyone's crazy in their own way, especially really smart kids." Nijimura rubs a hand back through his hair, glaring at the traffic light until it changes. "Well, whatever. I hope he's doing all right now. His dad was always a dick. Must be doing okay if he's still playing basketball. You seriously beat him? All of them?" 

 

“What, like it’s hard?” Kagami could sound less assholishly proud of himself, but it just wouldn’t be genuine. He floors the gas as soon as it turns green, probably too quickly, but he can’t help wanting to show off just a _little_. “They were beasts. Aomine...that one was rough. I was injured. We lost once. Won the hell out of the rematch, though.”

 

"Drive like you've got sense, or I'll make you trade with me," Nijimura snaps on reflex, just barely resisting the urge to reach over and scruff Kagami by the back of his neck. "I'm glad you kicked their asses, though. They needed to learn that was a _thing_." He falls silent for a second, shrugging irritably. "Man, Teiko basketball will fuck some kids up. I recited the same shit over and over again when I was captain--you have to win, it's expected, that's the motto, but…ugh."  

 

Kagami pulls down to a more respectable speed, which has less to do with Nijimura’s threats and more to do with traffic on the L.A. freeway system. It’s only one exit away, so Kagami figures they shouldn’t be in traffic for more than ten minutes to go one mile. “This traffic is bullshit,” he mutters, turning the A/C on higher, burning through his car’s cooling system. “Yeah. They’re all pretty fucked up. I think Aomine’s the only one I didn’t see cry after we beat them.”

 

"Did you ever play a guy named Haizaki?" Worth asking, because if Nijimura knows that guy, he didn't entirely quit playing…and that's nicer to talk about than thinking about his old team crying like the babies they were. Damn it. "If you did, sorry about it." 

 

“Fuck that guy.” Kagami’s mouth tightens, knuckles suddenly white on the wheel. “He fucked Kise up in their match, messed up his foot so bad it almost took him out of the tournament. I heard he was gonna go after him that night, too. Aomine laid him out, though. Wish I’d been there.”

 

"I'm gonna find him and kill him," Nijimura announces without a second's hesitation. "Fucking brat. I thought he would have gotten over himself, but apparently not. Do you know how many times I nearly drowned him in the school's pool? Missed my chance to do the world a favor."

 

“I had to hear a lot of crap from Kuroko back then about him,” Kagami mutters. “All about how he’s not _really_ a bad guy, he just gets mad about basketball, he really _loves_ it...ugh. Kuroko gets like that sometimes. But mention Akashi, and oh, no, suddenly that guy’s the goddamn devil incarnate who can’t be forgiven? He didn’t even _really_ stab me.”

 

"Kuroko's got Warm Fuzzy Syndrome, always has. I had to remind him a couple of times that Teiko's not all about being friends, it's the real deal and we're competitive even as team members--" Pause. "Hold on. Go back, Akashi _stabbed_ you?" 

 

“Not really!” Kagami reaches up, brushing over the space on his cheek where he’d had a scar for months, feeling strangely sad when there’s nothing there anymore. “I dunno, there were some scissors. He _knew_ I’d dodge, though.”

 

"What the fuck," Nijimura mutters underneath his breath, and reaches over, giving Kagami a little shake because they're still at a goddamn stand-still. Stupid L.A. traffic. "You're gonna need to tell me that this was an isolated incident and that Akashi's not just going around stabbing people now." 

 

“Isolated, definitely isolated,” Kagami assures him quickly. “I mean, he was pretty fruity for a while, that whole split-personality thing, and he definitely said he was going to gouge out his own eyes and kill everyone’s families, but he got over it.”

 

"You're not reassuring me at all."

 

“But he got over it, I said!” Kagami frowns, looking over while he pulls forward one measly car length. “Did no one tell you about his split personality thing?”

 

"Uh. No. You're the first I've heard about it, I swear to god I thought you were exaggerating until you started going into this shit." Nijimura wipes a hand over his face as he sags back into his seat. "What the fuck. I knew he was stressed, but…stressed like, he got a 98 on a test once, and cried for four hours straight in the locker room and wouldn't come out until I fireman-carried him to a conbini. Not stressed like, kill a man."

 

“As far as I know, he hasn’t killed anyone.” Kagami pauses for a moment, then adds begrudgingly, “He still does do that thing with the crying about tests, though. I guess he had a one-on-one with Murasakibara that went really wrong and he went nuts. Snapped. Like, started using _boku_ , referred to everyone by their first names, started declaring himself the absolute ruler of the world who could see the future...I dunno, that’s how I met him, didn’t seem _that_ different from all the other lunatics from Teiko.”

 

"…….and everyone thought this was fine, and decided to roll with it." 

 

“Well, he was still good at basketball.”

 

"Fucking fantastic. I'm lecturing every single last one of them the next time I see them." Nijimura's teeth set into a grind. "Is he better _now?_ That's some legit crazy, and it's not like Japan's health system regarding that kind of thing is great…" More like, _I can't imagine his dad acknowledging it_ , but not knowing exactly how much Kagami knows makes him bite his tongue. Some stuff is too personal. 

 

“Given that his dad told him they _could_ afford therapy and just weren’t gonna do it? He’s surprisingly better. No thanks to that asshole.” Kagami’s jaw clenches, and he rolls forward a couple dozen yards, suddenly tense with worry. “I dunno. It was better when I was there. Sometimes he’d say something and everyone at Rakuzan would freak out and check his eyes--they change color when he’s the big brother.”

 

"This is some freaky shit," Nijimura bluntly says, twisting to lean against the door to stare Kagami down. "And I'm gonna admit, I'm pretty surprised that you know as much as you do. He's not a talker. You two must've gotten close."

 

“We--”

 

 _Shit_.

 

Outing himself is _one_ thing. Kagami knows he should care more about his own future, about his own _safety_ now that he’s back in America, but just can’t really bring himself to do it.

 

Outing someone like Akashi, on the other hand...

 

“Well, I mean, I went to Rakuzan for half a year. He tutored me almost every day to keep me on the team. My grades aren’t, like, great.”

 

Nijimura stares at him for another solid few seconds before nodding and glancing back out the window again. "Fair enough. Well, good, I'm glad he had someone to talk to. You seem like a pretty cool guy about this kind of stuff, he needs to be around someone like that." 

 

“He’s got other friends at Rakuzan. Three of the--did you hear about the Uncrowned Kings when you were there, or was that not a thing yet? They’d have been in your grade, I think.” Because anything is better than talking about how lucky Akashi was to have him when he’s not over there anymore.

 

Nijimura scoffs at that. "Yeah, I know who you're talking about. Do you know _how_ I know? Who do you think was the top ranked power forward that year until Aomine Daiki came along?" 

 

“But--he’s in the year behind you, isn’t he?” Kagami’s eyes light up at a sudden thought. “Wait, did he get held back? Please tell me he got held back.”

 

"That'd serve him right, but no. He didn't. I'm saying, Aomine showing up a year behind me was all it took to make everyone forget about me--same with all the other Miracles, they were shiny and new and better than everyone else playing their positions, no matter what year." Nijimura sighs, rolling his eyes. "Having a chip on your shoulder about it, though…I know some of the Uncrowned Kings are salty about it, he better not be going to school with them." 

 

“It’s Mibuchi, Hayama, and Nebuya,” Kagami says, hoping that’s reassuring. “They were all pretty cool at Rakuzan--they love him, man. Uh, Captain. He was Captain there in his first year, they’re all really defensive of him. It’s...it’s a good team.”

 

"Good. They're all lunatics, too, but they're the good ones. Not like that…what was his name, Hanamiya? That guy. Fuck that guy." Nijimura reaches over to smack Kagami half-heartedly on the shoulder. "Don't call me Captain outside of practice and games, this isn't Japan." 

 

“Ha, sorry. Old habits.” Like being able to move in traffic, apparently. Kagami eyes the road’s shoulder, just a hundred yards from the exit, but begrudgingly stays in his lane, creeping forward another ten feet. “We played that asshole. There’s really...nothing else to him, is there? I kept expecting him to show up and tell me his whole sad backstory, but nothing happened. He _did_ cripple our center for life, though.”

 

"Real classy. I hope someone reported his ass." 

 

Nijimura mulls over his next words for a few moments before he finally says, "Hearing this kind of stuff makes me wonder what would have been different if I had stayed. Like--I know I'm not their dad, I shouldn't have had to be, but if any team of idiots needed a real fucking parent on board, it was the Generation of Miracles." 

 

“Why _did_ you leave? Sorry if that’s intruding or something, I just...” _I just don’t want to hear it was because you couldn’t take them being better than you, not when you seem so cool._

 

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's old news." Nijimura shrugs. "My dad was in the hospital. At first, it was in Japan, and I stepped down from being captain because I didn't think I could give it my full focus. Then he had to come over here for treatment, and my little sister and brother were already here with some other family, so…" He waves a hand helplessly. "Kinda necessary." 

 

“Oh. Man, I’m sorry. Is he...okay now?”

 

"He died a few weeks after I came over. Don't get weird about it, it was cancer, there's…yeah, it is what it is." Nijimura heaves a long, weary sigh. "I thought about going back for high school, but my siblings wanted to stay, so…"

 

“How old are they?” Kagami sees an opening, and takes it, zooming forward and finally getting off the ramp with a sigh of relief, parking at In N Out Burger a minute later. “God, I could eat forty of these.”

 

"16 and 12. I'm in hell, people think my sister is hot." Nijimura throws open the car door and breathes in dry air with enthusiasm. "And my little brother plays _soccer._ No taste." 

 

True to form, Kagami orders forty burgers, then leans back against the drink counter, waiting for them to be prepared. “Hard life of Asian kids over here, huh? Sorry about your sister. God, I used to get defensive when people said my _coach_ was hot.”

 

Kagami's order is impressive--but nothing that Nijimura bats an eye at. He _was_ on a team with Aomine and Murasakibara, after all. His order is a conservative two. "Yeah, well, she eats it up, which is the worst. She's also forgotten how to speak Japanese, which is going to be funny when I make her go visit our grandparents over Christmas." 

 

“God, I thought _my_ grandma was mad at me for always leaving off my sentence endings,” Kagami says wryly, taking his tray and sliding into a booth. He’s grown a few inches in the past few months, which still doesn’t seem to sate his appetite. “I’m an only child. It always sounded cool to have siblings, though.”

 

"If you like torture, sure," Nijimura dryly says as he joins him. "Don't mind me, I'm sure it's different for other people, and I love them to death. I guess--they aren't really siblings anymore? They feel like my kids, my brother fucks up sometimes and calls me 'Dad', that kind of thing." 

 

Kagami swallows down a joke about Nijimura being called _Daddy_ \-- _Get it together, Kagami Taiga!-_ -and bites into a burger instead, thinking of Himuro scoffing at him and telling him he desperately needs some time alone with a vibrator. _Not that he’s wrong..._

 

Living with his father again had been _vastly_ overrated.

 

“Well, it’s not really fucking up, right?” he asks instead, relishing the taste of In N Out after so long without. “I mean, if you’re raising him, you’re basically his dad now. Is it okay for you to be out this late? I can take you home whenever.”

 

"He's got an after school thing, one of his friend's moms does a carpool--soccer, remember? _Those_ kind of moms." At least he's never going to have to harass Kagami into eating. It's kind of impressive, and Nijimura settles for watching for a moment before shaking off the deja vu of Aomine Daiki. "But, anyway, if you're offering, I'm not gonna turn down a free ride home. What direction are you going in, though?" he asks around a mouthful of burger. "I don't want you stuck in _more_ traffic." 

 

“Doesn’t matter. Everywhere in L.A. is the same.” Kagami lays out a burger wrapper flat, knowing from experience that it’s the only way to collect as many as he has and not make a mess. “I’m in Redondo Beach, Dad said Torrance was a real estate shithole and he wouldn’t get me a place there. Not a bad drive on Del Amo. Hell of a lot faster than if I had to take the 405 everywhere. Dad lives in Sherman Oaks, the commute was hell.”

 

"Oh, sweet--our condo's in Manhattan Beach. My dad's will hooked us up," Nijimura wryly explains, opening up the plastic top on his drink to pick out a piece of ice. "Well, as much as you can be 'hooked up' in L.A., whatever. Ship me back to Japan." 

 

“Like Tokyo real estate is any better?” Kagami teases. “If you hate it so much, can’t you just sell it and go back? I mean, I bet your grandparents would like having you around, right?”

 

"Eh. I probably will, once my siblings get out of my hair. It's not the real estate, it's the atmosphere, you know? L.A. makes me high strung." Nijimura finishes his second burger with a grimace. "We sound like old men, what the hell." 

 

“We sound like _salarymen_ ,” Kagami says, sighing as he lays out his tenth wrapper neatly. “You remember hearing them talk in Yoshinoyas? That always seemed so weird to me. Here are these guys, pulling in enough to feed three families in style and have a live-in cook, eating two-dollar rice bowls with stringy meat on top, sitting at tiny stools talking about serious stock mergers. You’d never see that here.”

 

"That's why I _like_ Japan, though. Around here, everyone's so stuck up and bitchy. Guys with money in Japan at least have class." Nijimura leans over the table. "This is why I'm making my sister get her ass onto our grandparent's farm up in Sendai all of winter break. No Internet, just a whole lot of cows." 

 

“You _do_ sound like an old man,” Kagami mutters. “Sendai in winter? You trying to freeze her into some less revealing clothes? Actually...knowing how girls here dress, that might not be a bad plan.”

 

"Whatever you're imagining, it's worse. Remember, she knows that guys think she's hot." 

 

Kagami makes a face without meaning to, and hopes that can be passed off as sympathy rather than involuntary disgust. “Sorry about it. Hey, my grandparents have a farm down in Kyoto prefecture, way outside the city, though. I bet they’d talk about cows for days.”

 

"Thank god, there are men older than us that talk about _real_ old man things," Nijimura grouses. "Right, time to sound like a teenager. You've been here long enough, you got a girlfriend yet?"

 

“Nah.” Kagami flounders for a second for an excuse. “The girls here are...I dunno. Kinda racist.” Not untrue.

 

"True. There are some good ones, though--" Nijimura's face lights up. "There's this one girl I've been trying to get with since last year, but she won't go out with me until her friend has a date, too. We could _totally_ do this, man. I promise her friend's cute, just kinda shy." 

 

Kagami opens his mouth to reject this idea outright--a date with a girl isn’t exactly how he wants to spend _any_ night of his life, and he doubts it would be any more fun for the girl--then thinks for a second. “You mean, like, a double date?” 

 

The problem is, Nijimura is _awesome_. Hanging out with him for a night might be worth even this--and it isn’t like dating a girl would damage his reputation with the team or his father, either.

 

"Yeah, like a double date. And if you aren't into her, you can call it quits, but just for one night--" Nijimura clasps his hands together in a praying gesture. "Girls," he solemnly says, "are insane. But these girls are hot nerds, so at least they're insane and _smart_. So please."

 

“I _do_ like nerds,” Kagami admits. Even better, if they’re nerds, at least that means the girl won’t want to go too far on the first date...doesn’t it? Kagami is pretty sure that’s how that works, from certain 90’s movies he’s watched. “Fine, fine, if she’s into it, I’m in.”

 

" _Awesome_." Nijimura rocks back, infinitely pleased with himself. "We'll iron out plans this week or something. She'll like you, you're not an _asshole._ I haven't recommended any other guys for this, so you better think highly of yourself." 

 

“Uh...yeah, okay. I’m pretty much free whenever, so just let me know?” The thought of dating a girl makes his appetite wane for a minute, but remembering that Nijimura will be there brings it right back.

 

So help him, he’s a little basic when it comes to guys.

 

"Will do." Nijimura grins, reaching across the table to ruffle Kagami's hair. "This'll be fun, I promise." 

 

“Absolutely!”

 

An hour later, Kagami frantically punches what feels like 30 numbers into his cell phone, hoping Himuro is awake at whatever time this is, probably about 9am on a Saturday over there. “Hey,” he says by way of greeting. “Tatsuya, how do you date a girl?”

 

"……….. _What?_ "

 

Himuro thinks that's a pretty valid response, especially when it's a question that sounds really alien coming out of Kagami's mouth. "Uh," he says, smashing his face back down into his pillow, because it is Saturday, and he is _not getting up_. "You don't. You're gay." 

 

“Well, yeah.” Kagami flops down onto his bed, recently delivered, and stares at the ceiling. “But the guy I--my captain on the team here--this guy I know, he just asked me to go on a double date with him, and I didn’t know how to say no...”

 

"You want to fuck him, don't you."

 

“Uh....I mean, well, _yeah_ , but...”

 

"Taiga, you're so basic." 

 

“I _know_ , I’ve been telling myself that all day, but I already agreed so get your head out of your ass and help me?”

 

"Fine, fine." Himuro slowly rolls onto his side, only his head sticking out of his blanket cocoon. "What do you want to know? Dating girls is a lot easier than dating guys, they just want you to hold their hand and tell them they look pretty." 

 

“I get the basics. Just--there always seems like there’s a code, you know?” Kagami rubs a hand over his face, already regretting this stupid life choice. “When do I hold her hand? Isn’t that a big deal for girls? Do I call her anything special, like baby?”

 

"Not on the first date. Be sweet, open doors for her and shit, pay for her food, it's dumb but it's charming. American girls usually want a kiss at the end of a first date, brace yourself for how sticky lip gloss is." Himuro's wry expression is audible. "I dunno, tell her she looks really cute. Be yourself, just less gay." 

 

“I, uh, usually have sex with a guy on a first date,” Kagami admits. “Well, okay, not really. _Before_ the first date. Wow. That sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

 

"Yeah, don't do that. That would make you a piece of shit with a girl, if you're planning on _really_ dating her." Himuro pauses, and dryly asks, "How long are you seriously gonna string this along?" 

 

“I dunno, man! I only agreed to it like half an hour ago!” Kagami sighs, squirming out of his jeans and putting on a pair of shorts for just around the house. “Spur of the moment, he _begged_ me. I mean...it might not be as bad as I think, right? And if she just wants to hold hands and stuff, I can do that. It’s not like I have to, to _do_ anything with her.”

 

"No, you don't. In fact, it'll just make you more charming. A shy jock that doesn't want to put it in immediately, quite a find." 

 

“Yeah, right? And Dad would be...uh, probably pretty happy,” Kagami admits. “He kinda...you know how I was living with him for a while? He kinda saw me, uh...with some porn.” No need to elaborate what kind. He only _owns_ one kind.

 

Himuro exhales a groan. It was only a matter of time, admittedly. "Of course he did. Did he flip out? He couldn't have flipped out too badly." 

 

“Not that bad. I mean, it was just a magazine.” Kagami hadn’t exactly _enjoyed_ the awkward silence that followed, but it hadn’t been too bad, either. “I told him some of the guys on the team made a bet to see if we could get off with it, I think he bought it. Plus, made him way more willing to get me my own place, so...”

 

"Lucky. If it happens again, just blame me or some shit, I'm a terrible influence, remember?" Kagami's dad is the only dad that never buys the smile he puts on for any parent that isn't his own, so he's given up. "Well, then you've answered everything yourself--this sounds like a pretty damn nice cover up." 

 

Kagami rolls slowly onto his stomach, pressing his face flat against the pillow, and grunts. “I don’t think I’ll be able to string her along too long, though. I mean, she deserves a boyfriend who’s actually interested, and I’d be lying to her...”

 

"So learn to fake it really well and fuck her, maybe. At least then you'd be getting some. Maybe you'll get lucky and have a foursome with your hot captain." 

 

“Stop putting ideas into my head, Tatsuya!” Oh god, could he have a foursome? “Ugh. Maybe I’ll get lucky and the girls will be the kind that get off on watching guys kiss--or is that just a Japanese thing?”

 

"Nah, that's totally just a girl thing in general. Might work, give it a shot." It's absolutely a shot in the dark, but giving Kagami some kind of a false hope is better than none at all.

 

“But...” In order to _get_ to that absurd hypothetical that he totally can’t stop thinking about now ( _Nijimura’s lips, Nijimura’s hands, Nijimura’s cock thick and hard in his hand, shut up Taiga!_ ), he’d probably have to have sex with the girl alone first. “I dunno if I can do it. Maybe I’ll just wait until they break up and offer a sympathy handjob. Better than nothing, right?”

 

"You're getting ahead of yourself. Chill." Himuro stifles a yawn, and buries himself further down into his blankets. "How hot is this guy, anyway? Did you and Akashi just completely give up on the dating stuff, or is this a stipulation of the distance thing?" He tries not to ask Mibuchi anything about it, because that sends Mibuchi into weird tizzies, and Himuro's so uninterested that he'd rather jump in a snowbank. 

 

Kagami lets out a noise that’s half frustration, half despair. “I dunno, man. We tried for a couple weeks. But everything got _crazy_ , he’s spending all his time at basketball or student council, and our schedules are really messed up. We could only talk, like, once a week...so we kinda decided to call it quits. We still Skype sometimes, though.” He sighs into the pillow, fingers clenching in the soft fabric. “I still...I mean, he knows that it’s only because of distance. If we wind up in the same area again, we’re on, but...yeah.”

 

"Mm. Figured." Himuro kindly does _not_ bring up how this explains a lot of Mibuchi's free time no longer being free. Back to being a babysitter and a mom, of course. "But until then, it's any hot boy you can find that will have you. Taiga, please be smart about it if you do decide to hook up with someone." 

 

“I’m not a _slut_ , Tatsuya,” Kagami mutters. “I haven’t hooked up with anyone.” Not that he hasn’t _wanted_ to, but he hasn’t. “And if I did, what would be wrong with that? But I took your advice, I’ve been thinking about my career and shit.”

 

"I'm just reminding you about that, that's all. Also, don't come back and tell me you aren't a slut when the first thing you do is fuck someone, not take them out on a date." 

 

“Just pointing out a trend,” Kagami mutters. “I mean, I already knew both guys first. I’m just saying, I’m not getting laid nearly enough to get called that.”

 

"I'm teasing you, Taiga. Just…" Himuro sighs, shutting his eyes. "I know how you get, and I know you're lonely. Call me before you do something stupid." 

 

 _You have no idea how lonely,_ Kagami almost says, but bites his tongue. What good would it do? At least there’s someone here who speaks his language. Looks like he gets about one of those, each time he moves--but something tells him Nijimura won’t be buying him a ring. “Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks.”

 

~

 

**To: Taiga Kagami (lakers4evr@gmail.com)**

**From: Kuroko Tetsuya (kuroko.tetsuya@yahoo.co.jp)**

**Subject: Catching Up**

 

**Hello, Kagami-kun:**

 

**I know it's been awhile, and we've both been somewhat lax with staying in touch. I suppose I figured you would be busy with the transition back to America, but that's no real excuse…**

 

**We've all been working hard towards the Winter Cup. Aida-san and Hyuuga-san's focus is somewhat off because of exams. I think Aomine-kun is going to eat them both. He's been doing well lately.**

 

**Did you hear that Kise-kun's song topped the Oricon charts for an hour a couple of weeks ago? He won't stop talking about it, which is unfortunate. I know that song is (horribly) catchy, but it's not so good as to warrant conversations about nothing but that.**

 

**What else to talk about…I'm not very good at e-mails, so maybe we could talk on the phone at some point. My phone won't let me call out internationally, but I can receive calls. Just check the time difference, please.**

 

**Hope you're doing well,**

**Kuroko Tetsuya**

 

Kagami can’t help being mildly embarrassed of the fact that he keeps the email loaded on his phone all day, checking it intermittently between classes, at lunch, and before practice. It’s difficult to say what it is about that email in general that makes him feel quite so lonely, and for a moment he has to wonder whether a part of him is still in love with Kuroko.

 

 _No_ , he realizes, settling into his love seat at home with a bag of burritos from a local Mexican place. _It’s not Kuroko the boyfriend I miss. It’s Kuroko the best friend._

 

Satisfied with his own explanation, he pulls out his phone, finally clicking away from the much-read email. If it had been a lovelorn thing, he would have been wrong to call. As it is, it would be wrong not to call an old friend when he’s (honestly) so fucking lonely on most days he could put his fist through the wall.

 

He checks the clock, and does some quick math. It’s about 8 am in Japan, and Kagami has never known Kuroko to sleep later than that. He dials a few dozen numbers, then sits back with a burrito, listening to it ring, trying to stop himself from being excited.

 

It's on the third ring that Kuroko answers, and the fumbling with the phone is audible on his end. "Ah--h-hello, Kagami-kun." 

 

Breathless as he might be, Kuroko does a _very_ good job of schooling his voice down into something calmer and less…riled-up sounding. Part of that has to do with putting his hand briefly over Aomine's face, putting a stop to his kisses temporarily--easier said than done when he's already mostly naked and flat on his back on his futon. "I'm glad you called." 

 

Aomine’s smirk might be wasted on Kuroko in his current position, but the way he turns his head to take one of those pale fingers into his mouth is not. He draws back slowly, curling his tongue around each knuckle, letting it go with a soft suck as he grinds gently down between Kuroko’s legs, half-hard already. They’re both still wearing boxers, lazy and hungry in the early morning, and damned if he’s going to stop because Kuroko is on the phone. 

 

Besides. If he wants to stop, he’s good at making his intentions known.

 

“Yeah? Me too.” Kagami is already on his second burrito, at least halfway because of stress. “I’m glad you emailed me. I miss you, you know?”

 

Kagami sure is saying some words. Kuroko's eyes lid, his lips parting in a slow, measured exhale, and his one hand clenches tighter around his phone as he takes the ample opportunity to twist his fingers against Aomine's tongue. "I miss you, too," he murmurs, mind slowly shutting off and yielding to how much easier it is to be direct in his responses right about now. HIs thighs squeeze against Aomine's hips, and he wriggles down slowly into the roll of the other boy's hips. "I hope it's not, um, awful, in America." 

 

Aomine’s grin is a slow, predatory thing as he bends, sealing his lips to Kuroko’s neck, nibbling at the pale skin as he pulls his cock out of his boxers. One hand braces him on the bed, the other pulling Kuroko’s boxers down, then grabbing Kuroko’s hand and bringing it between them just as he leaves one hard suck. 

 

“It’s okay, I guess. Basketball’s kind of the same anywhere. Hey, you’ll never believe who my new captain is.”

 

"I g-guess you did prove your point about that before." Hopefully the shake in his voice isn't too noticeable, but he's pretty sure the way his breath hiccups is going to be soon. Kuroko pulls the phone away from his face for a second, swallowing hard he grabs for Aomine's cock unabashedly, dragging his thumb over the leaking tip of it. His own cock twitches against his stomach with the suck to the side of his neck, and Kuroko lets his head flop back against the futon, his eyes shutting as he breathes in deep and brings the phone back to his ear. "Did Himuro-san transfer back to America just to boss you around on your new team?" 

 

“No, he’s the Captain of Yosen now, he...hey, are you okay?” Kagami shifts on the loveseat, trying not to think about how awfully breathy Kuroko’s voice sounds. He doesn’t _remember_ it being like that in the mornings, but maybe if he’s jogging or something...

 

Aomine tosses both of their boxers over his shoulder, nestling up between Kuroko’s thighs, bringing a slow grind of a rhythm to the motions. Kuroko’s hand is nice, but this is better, rubbing off together as he slides a hand down, two slick fingers starting to open him up.

 

Kuroko barely swallows down the breathy, high-pitched noise that wants to escape when Aomine's fingers first slide inside. His legs splay wider, his back arching, and he swears he hears his knuckles crack when his fingers twitch around the phone. "I'm good," he manages. "And I know about Himuro-san, it was a…j…joke, _god_." 

 

He's ruined it now, oh well. It can't be helped, not when Aomine's fingers curl up into him so perfectly, not when feeling the slick slide of their cocks against one another is enough to make him shudder down to his toes. "Sorry, Kagami-kun," Kuroko breathes, "I'm putting you on speaker, okay?" 

 

“You’re--what? Why?”

 

“Some guys just can’t take a hint,” Aomine purrs, pulling out his fingers to flip Kuroko over onto his belly, hiking his ass up into the air. “Yo, dumbass. Stay on the line if you wanna learn something.”

 

Kagami is silent for a long minute, feeling his heart race, his pulse thump dizzyingly in his head. A half-eaten burrito falls from his fingers, and he looks reflexively at the door to see if it’s locked. “Are--Kuroko--are you having sex right now?” 

 

_Is this a trick? Is he taunting me? Or is it....something else?_

 

True to his word, Kuroko puts the phone into speaker mode, flopping it right next to the futon as he's flipped over without a single complaint. "We were already starting when you called, and I didn't want to stop," he unabashedly admits, sighing as he settles his knees further apart, his face pressed partially down into the back of one arm. "Plus, I thought you might be lonely over there, and this might be nice…mmnn, Dai-kun, you can do more of the talking once you put it in." 

 

“Roger that.” Aomine leaves a bruise with his teeth on the back of one shoulder, then slides in deep, clenching his teeth on a moan. “You ready to let him hear you, Tetsu?”

 

 _God_. There’s no denying that Aomine’s voice is a sultry murmur of a thing that’s _always_ gone straight to Kagami’s dick. There’s no denying that he’s watched both of them, gotten off more times than he can count to both of them, apart and together in his mind. The soft gasping breaths from Kuroko, the low growls from Aomine, and Kagami doesn’t think it’s fair to judge him for sliding a hand into his jeans. “Is, uh...is this really okay?” _Please don’t let it be a trick, not when I’m this hard and they sound so fucking good together._

 

"Uh… _huh."_

 

Kuroko's voice breaks on a breathy whine, and his fingers clench down into his pillow, his breath raggedly catching when Aomine slides into him, long and thick and _deep_. His muscles twitch and clench, squeezing down tight when they can't help but cling to that perfect cock that stuffs him full, and he wheezes out a soft exhale through his teeth. "K…Kagami-kun, he's in r-really…really deep." 

 

 _Shit_.

 

Kagami isn’t sure what to do when he hears that, panted in a desperate whimper. His hand tightens on his cock, getting hard faster than he ever remembers in his life when Kuroko breathes like that in his ear. “Y-yeah, I bet. He’s--”

 

He swallows hard. Dirty talk, sure, he can do that--but when Aomine’s listening, and probably way better at it? That’s enough to make anyone hesitant. “Is he...nice and big?” He ventures, hoping that’s innocuous enough that they’ll let it slide.

 

Aomine huffs out a laugh, then slides in deep, fast enough that Kagami can hear the soft slap of skin on skin. “Big enough to make him whine,” he murmurs, close to the phone. Damned if he’s not harder than usual from this, even if it had been a surprise. Kuroko’s surprises are usually good. “You ever get a good look at it? You’d love it. Wouldn’t he, Tetsu? Tell him he’d love my dick.”

 

Kuroko bites down onto the back of his own arm briefly, stifling a whimper that would be way _too_ loud, and would absolutely be at a pitch to make his dog come running. His cock jumps at the words, dripping steadily onto the futon when Aomine slides in so far that his stomach clenches, his pulse sounding fast in his ears. 

 

"Kagami-kun…would like it _too much_ , I think," Kuroko manages on a breathless laugh, shoving himself up onto one elbow to better grind his way back. A droplet of sweat makes its way down his spine as he shifts, panting softly. "He'd wanna put his mouth on it, but I like it better like this." 

 

“You’re so greedy,” Kagami groans, about a half-second before Aomine says the same thing. Kagami doesn’t remember opening his pants, but they’re open now, shoved down to his knees as he frantically strokes his cock, hard pulls from base to tip driving him insane. “There’s three dicks, share a little.”

 

“Nah. He wants it all to himself. Isn’t that right?” Aomine isn’t quiet about his kisses this time, sloppy sucking noises filtering through the phone with every thrust as he works over Kuroko’s shoulders and neck. “Sandwich can’t have two meat and one bread, right? Then again...Tetsu, didn’t you say he was real good with his mouth?”

 

“Oh god,” Kagami mutters, cock jumping in his hand at the thought of them talking about him like _this_.

 

"Mm…mm, really good," Kuroko rasps out, his head dropping forward again when a hard shiver drags down his spine, starting with the way his skin twitches and shivers underneath every press and suck of Aomine's mouth. His legs feel weak at the next thought that filters through his mind, but he says it, anyway. "I wanna be on Dai-kun's dick when Kagami-kun's sucking me off. I don't care if it's greedy, he's _good_ at it." 

 

Aomine's next thrust goes deep and _perfect_ enough to make him sag down with a groan, and Kuroko gulps noisily, his muscles starting to tremble on their own accord. "S…sorry--if I come really soon, Daiki, please--" 

 

“You always come too fast,” Aomine teases, hoisting Kuroko’s hips up higher, re-angling himself for better traction, better speed, thrusting in faster and faster. “You’d--ahh, you’d come in his mouth, right? And when you were done, I’d take his mouth, too.”

 

“Fuck,” Kagami breathes, eyes rolling back in his head at the thought, the sound of flesh on flesh loud enough that he knows they can hear him beating off through the phone. “Yeah, you can fuck my mouth,” he says without thinking, then has to bite down on his fist to keep in a moan.

 

“Knew you’d like that. You’re as--nnh--as much of a slut as Tetsu, huh?” Another hard thrust, and Aomine hits deep with a hiss. “Come on my dick, you _slut_ ,” he groans, not entirely sure who he’s talking to, knowing it’s both of them.

 

Kuroko's voice hits breaking point, and he doesn't have a choice but to muffle it with his own hand. He's close enough to the phone that it doesn't matter--every muffled squeak and groan and whine is breathy and noisy still, punctuated by the slap of Aomine's hips, and when he shoves in hard and deep, Kuroko swears he can see stars. 

 

He'd _like_ to talk about how much he'd love to watch Aomine fuck Kagami's mouth, especially after he's already done the same--but he'll mention it _later_ , when he can think past how hard his own cock is, and how good Aomine's voice sounds purring obscenities into his ear. 

 

He comes with a hiccuping moan, twisting back onto Aomine's cock, shivering and overstimulated and dripping sweat, held up only by the grace of Aomine's hands and the dick shoved so far in him that breathing makes his whole body ache. The only thing he manages is one, mindless correction after that: "W…wouldn't…come _in_ his mouth--Kagami-kun likes it on his face." 

 

That’s the end for Kagami, and the harsh gasp from his mouth is something both of them can hear perfectly well, bouncing off satellites right to Japan, even as he spills all over his hand in California. He brings it mindlessly to his mouth, licking a messy finger, feeling his cock twitch at just that, the idea that it’s someone else’s, maybe two someones. “Yeah,” he sighs, collapsing back as he hears Aomine grunting out his own climax deep in Kuroko’s ass. “That would be...pretty good, I bet.”

 

There’s a sharp slap as Aomine’s palm meets Kuroko’s ass, then a thump when he hits the bed, all six and a half feet of him next to Kuroko. “Maybe you wouldn’t give up right away when I got in you, huh?” he teases, pinching Kuroko’s ass gently, wiping sweat from his brow.

 

"Dai-kun likes it when I give up," Kuroko petulantly mumbles, slowly slithering down onto the messy futon with a pleased noise. "Then he gets to do whatever he wants to me and show off even more." He stretches with a hiss of breath, feeling the slow, messy trickle out of him, and makes absolutely no attempt to move or think of cleaning up. Later, that can happen much later. "Kagami-kun…we could have a _really_ fun threesome, get on a plane back to Japan." 

 

“Yeah, okay,” Kagami says without thinking at all, then slaps a hand over his own face. “I mean--heh. Not right now, school just started here, but...I dunno, I’ll probably show up over winter break--no, Thanksgiving, we don’t celebrate it but my school gets a week off next month.”

 

“Thirsty,” Aomine mutters, rolling out of bed and tugging his boxers on, presumably escaping in search of a drink. “Want anything?”

 

"Water, please? And check on Nigou, if you don't mind." 

 

Kuroko slowly snuggles his way back down into a blanket, grabbing with a vaguely coordinated hand for his phone and flipping it off of speaker. "That'd be a lot of fun," he sighs, eyes lidding. "Also, just to see you again would be good. Sorry if it was awkward being thrown into this, but it was nice, wasn't it, Kagami-kun?" 

 

“Y-yeah.” Awkward is one word for it, now that Kagami’s cooled off a bit and has to wipe himself down. “I mean, it wouldn’t kill you to warn a guy, but...yeah. It was nice. And...” He throws an arm over his face, exhaling deeply. “I _really_ needed that, man. L.A. is _not_ a great place for that kind of thing.”

 

"It's not?" Kuroko can't quite stop the surprise from creeping into his voice. "I thought Americans  were better about this sort of thing, and Kagami-kun is very attractive…ah. This must be what Himuro-san was referring to." 

 

“I dunno what Tatsuya told you, but hooking up here is _not_ easy,” Kagami mutters. “Anyone over eighteen is obsessed with not getting caught with jailbait. Anyone younger wants some...I dunno, skinny scene kid with twenty piercings. Tatsuya says I’m too straight-looking, he’s probably right. _And_ they all think Asian guys have tiny dicks, what the fuck.”

 

"From my experience, that's the furthest thing from the truth." 

 

“You hang around basketball players, Kuroko. Big ones.”

 

"Mm. But they're all Japanese. I think my observations are valid." Kuroko idly picks at an edge of his pillowcase. "I don't really know how someone can look straight or homo, but that must be an American thing. I'm sorry you're having a hard time, though. Maybe if we talk more, at least, you won't be as lonely. Is the basketball at least good? I know you say it's the same everywhere, but…" 

 

“Nah, I’m just being a brat. It’s _really_ good here, I guess. Nijimura says this is the strongest team we’ve had in years, and we’re champions, so...” Kagami shrugs.

 

Kuroko blinks hard. "Wait, Kagami-kun--did you say 'Nijimura'?" 

 

“Oh, right!” Kagami yanks his pants up, kicking his legs out on the couch. “I told you to guess who my new captain was, but you were, uh, busy.”

 

"That happens when Aomine-kun is concerned." Kuroko's brow furrows. "Nijimura-san is your captain? I suppose he's the right age, but what a coincidence. Is he still very good? What do you think of him?" 

 

“I...I think he’s awesome,” Kagami admits, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “I took the power forward spot from him, so he just dropped down to play small forward--he’s _so_ versatile, you know? And he’s got that really forceful personality, and he takes care of his younger siblings, and the teachers all like him, and....”

 

"Kagami-kun, you _really_ like him." 

 

“Uh...well...he’s a good captain?” Kagami tries.

 

"Of course he is." Kuroko tries not to sound too amused. "You also think he's very good to look at. Kagami-kun tends to be transparent like that." 

 

“Well, he is nice to look at!” Kagami says defensively, grabbing a still-warm burrito out of the bag and hastily unwrapping it. “I’m _gay_ , there’s no reason I shouldn’t think a hot guy is hot!”

 

"I'm not saying you shouldn't. Nijimura-san is definitely attractive. But--Kagami-kun, he's straight." 

 

“Yeah. That’s why I’m not calling to tell you about my boyfriend, Nijimura.”

 

"I mean, you could always try. Maybe he got slightly more homo because of America." 

 

“Kuroko. I’m not into hooking up with straight guys.” Kagami polishes off the rest of the burrito, tossing the wrapper into the bag. “I only go for guys that are into me too. I can’t afford to make a mistake, not when I want to play pro-ball. Plus...I mean, it’s not like it’s easy if people find out in Japan, but over here they might mess you up.”

 

"I don't think Nijimura-san is the kind of person to talk about other people or what they like, but…you're right, you should be careful." Kuroko falls silent for a moment, contemplative. "I'm hoping Aomine-kun can remember to be careful, when he goes over to play," he says. "At least he likes girls a lot, too, but we've been really obvious over here, and I think he's getting too used to it." 

 

“You’ve got a couple of years to prep him, though.” Kagami thinks for a minute then sighs. “You might want to start soon. A lot of stuff that would be normal in Japan is really considered gay over here. Like...guys don’t hug. Or sit in each other’s laps. Or fall asleep on each others’ shoulders. Or tweak each others’ nipples in the locker room. Or...touch at all. Except ass-slaps, that’s apparently okay.”

 

"America sounds really lonely. No wonder Kagami-kun was so awkward for so long over here, you needed to be properly initiated." 

 

“Yeah, I guess.” Kagami’s phone beeps, and he pulls it away to look down, then curses. “Fuck. I have a date tonight.”

 

Kuroko's head tilts. "A date? I thought you said you couldn't get a guy to-- _oh_." He pauses. "Kagami-kun. Good luck. I remember your skill with women from before. It's very low." 

 

“It’s fine. Tatsuya said all I have to do is say she’s pretty and hold her hand, I can do that.” 

 

He rolls to his feet, stumbling into his room to stare at his closet. “What the fuck do I wear? Her name is Cathy, does that make a difference?”

 

"Um…I don't think it makes much of a difference…" Kuroko winces. "Isn't it a little forward to hold her hand on the first date? Kagami-kun, you're very personable, but with girls, you're just somewhat…hm…" 

 

“I _know_ , asshole,” Kagami growls, pulling clothes out of his closet and rethinking his whole strategy. “That’s why I asked for advice, and there’s no one more popular with girls than Tatsuya, and that’s what he said, so I’m gonna go for it. Here, I’m texting you a pic of my outfit, tell me what you think.”

 

"His popularity seems to be based on looks, though, doesn't it? I'm not sure if it's his personality that helps him." Kuroko sighs, pulling the phone away for a second to take a look at the texted picture. "Well, you're going to look, as usual, like Kagami-kun, and that's a good thing. It's not your looks that are going to hurt you, it's the fact that you get so rough with girls." 

 

“I get--rough? What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Kagami demands, shucking his pants to try on a few different pairs. “I’ve never touched a girl! Except Alex, and that was just to push her away!”

 

"You talk to girls like they're guys. You can't talk to girls in the same way, they expect a much softer touch. Try to be more polite, that's a good start. Why are you even going out with a girl if you don't like them?" 

 

Kagami sighs, sinking down to the bed. “Nijimura asked me to. Some girl he likes--Connie--she’d only go on a date with him if he found her friend a date, too. I mean...I’d kinda been thinking of trying to get a date with a girl anyway, just to keep up appearances...”

 

"Ah. I see. While I can understand the appeal of that, I hope that you don't find it too…um…stressful. I remember how you're afraid of eggs." 

 

“She....they’re small. I asked.” Kagami’s face burns, and he mutters, “I gotta go take a shower, I’ll text you later. Will you be on Line?”

 

"Kagami-kun, you're very predictable." Kuroko flops over onto his back. "I'll be on,  yes. Good luck. At least you can make eyes at Nijimura-san all night if all else fails…" 

 

“Thanks, that’s incredibly unhelpful,” Kagami says under his breath, and hangs up, just barely resisting the urge to punch a wall at his own stupid self.

 

~

 

There's some shyness and awkwardness to be expected from any first date, Nijimura gets that. Watching Kagami is, unfortunately, on another level. 

 

Bit by bit, Nijimura realizes that he's the one that fucked up. He and Connie might have been dancing around the issue of dating for the past year, but that's obviously not the case with Kagami and Cathy. While he can sit and lowly chat with Connie through two hours of a shitty comedy movie, watching Kagami and Cathy is like a trainwreck--between Cathy's own intense shyness, and Kagami's own…awkwardness? Whatever. Fucking hell, it's not good.

 

This is why, before going to the typical chain restaurant above fast food, he grabs Kagami's arm on their way out of the theater, and tosses back over his shoulder to both girls: "Bathroom, be right back!"

 

The door swings shut behind them, and Nijimura immediately turns on Kagami, heaving a sigh. "So. Be straight with me, how much do you hate this?" 

 

Kagami is instantly at the mirror, grabbing paper towels hand over fist to wipe at the excessive sweat rendering even the strongest deodorant completely useless. “I’m sorry, Captain, I’m _sorry_ , she’s giving me _nothing_ to work off of and nothing I try is working!”

 

Nijimura's arms fold as he scowls. "Yeah, you're not wrong. I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd be _this_ shy, maybe this is why she can't get a guy…but for the record, you look like you're gonna die every single time you try and say a single word to her, you've _got_ to chill." 

 

Kagami pauses, then splashes his face with cold water. “Really? Sorry, I’m really nervous...” Do straight guys get nervous on dates with girls? Kagami is pretty sure they do, and this is fine. Well, it’s something.

 

"I'm not trying to rag on you, you don't have to apologize. Just…be natural, you've gone out with girls before, right? Even if she's really shy, it's still the same thing." 

 

Kagami sighs, wiping his face off on a towel. “Not, uh...I mean, not like this. Or...at all, I guess.” He folds his arms, looking away. “I mean, in Japan I was really busy with the game, and everything...”

 

Nijimura blinks, surprise written clearly over his face. "…Wait. Seriously. Did I seriously--fuck." He wipes a hand down his face in frustration. "I am _really_ sorry. I didn't mean to drag you on your, uh, very first date _ever_. Not like this. If you want to call it quits for the night, I'd completely understand, and I'll bail with you." _Even if Connie will be royally pissed_ , he mentally grouses, then slaps that thought down firmly.

 

“No, no, I can do it! I just--I was getting advice from guys who only know Japanese girls, you know?” Kagami shakes his head a bit, then straightens his shirt. “Just...I can get through this. I’m trying not to scare her, my friend said I always scare girls, so I’m...trying really hard not to.” Which apparently translates to looking like he’s going to die.

 

"…Yeah, see, you're acting like you're scared _of her_ …god, you're a better man than I, _how_ do you handle not getting any?" 

 

Kagami shrugs, intensely awkward now. “I dunno, I have a hand. It’s not like guys are born knowing how to get girls, you know! I...” God, this is one of the worst days of his life. “I dunno, my dad never talked about this kinda thing with me, and I don’t have brothers, and I was always moving...”

 

It's not the first time Nijimura's heard a long, rambling list of excuses just like this, but he bites his tongue on the first thing he wants to ask. "Calm down already. I'm not accusing you of anything, and I'm not mad. I'm just saying--you've got a lot more self-control than I do. Badass." 

 

“I’m seventeen,” Kagami mutters, looking down at the ground so filthy it would never fly anywhere in Japan. “Don’t sign me up to be a bachelor forever just yet, I’m just--haven’t you ever met anyone who’s awkward around girls before?” He doesn’t _feel_ very badass, hyperventilating and sweating his ass off in a public bathroom because he’s this much of a goddamn failure.

 

 _There's awkward, and then there's fucking scared and trying to fake your way through something._ Nijimura briefly glances up at the ceiling, begging for strength and calm, before he drops a hand firmly onto Kagami's shoulder. "I'm gonna say it again," he says, switching fluidly to Japanese for this particular part of the conversation. "If you don't want to be here, I _will_ bail with you. You don't have to prove you're into girls to be cool with me." 

 

Kagami’s head snaps up so fast it nearly makes him dizzy. His eyes are guarded, but anxious, wild, trapped. “I...” He swallows, continuing in Japanese that’s a lot shakier when he’s rattled. “I dunno what you’re talking about, I love girls, they’re really....uh, soft, and...” _Shit_. “...Smell like fruit, and...uh, some of them are in the WNBA, and that’s good...” _I’m a fucking idiot._

 

"If you make me say it again, I'm gonna start punching you," Nijimura deadpans, giving Kagami's shoulder a firm shake. "I don't care if you like girls or guys or want to fuck a basketball. I just don't want to keep dragging you out if you're gonna have a miserable time of it _because of a girl_. You don't have to prove anything to me, Taiga." 

 

Kagami exhales a huge breath, pulling away to flop back against the wall, because at least that’s a hell of a lot easier than letting Nijimura touch him right now. “Sorry. I just, I know a lot of guys are weird about it, and...I mean, you really wanted to go out with her, and I thought maybe I could make it work, and that would have been so much better.”

 

"I was the captain of the Generation of Miracles, and you thought I'd be weird about it? Give me some credit, idiot." 

 

Nijimura leaves it at that, frowning as he glares at Kagami. "I'm not gonna say you're wrong. People can be assholes. If you want to fake it, that's one thing, but if it's clearly not working out…I dunno, don't torture yourself over it."

 

“Oh. So you _did_ know about them.” Kagami sighs, straightening his shirt again. “Okay, I can clear up some half-stories I gave you about them last year later, then. Yeah...I don’t know. I’m really trying to be nice to Cathy, I swear, but I feel like an asshole every time I talk to her--like I’m trying to pull one over, you know?”

 

Nijimura rakes a hand back through his hair, nodding. "Yeah. I get that. You're not coming off as an asshole, by the way; just as shy as she is, which I guess can be considered charming to some." His mouth twists. "I mean, I've got your back if you want to keep at it, or even just fake it. Gonna be real, I'm pretty sure Cathy's got a thing for _Connie_ , but what do I know." 

 

“Girls are mysterious,” Kagami mutters rebelliously. He bites back the thought that _that wouldn’t be so bad, the two of them could hook up and the two of us_... “I don’t mind doing it for the rest of the night. I know you really wanted to go out with Connie. She...she seems really into you, Captain.”

 

"Yeah, well. I still should've…I dunno, I feel like a heel for dragging you into this now," Nijimura grouses. "If you're cool with sticking around for the rest of the night, I'm gonna owe you the biggest favor, okay?" 

 

 _You could put your dick in my mouth_. “Heh, don’t worry about it. Just...don’t blame me if I look kinda scared out there, okay?”

 

"Yeah, yeah, gonna be real, Cathy probably hasn't even noticed." Nijimura heaves a sigh. "Whatever, let's do this. Sorry again, but I'm serious--I owe you one now, don't let me forget about it!" 

 

“S-sure! Let’s do this!” _Just kill me already, he’s so hot._ Kagami contemplates staying in the bathroom to slap himself across the face a couple of times, then resignedly follows Nijimura back out to the table to disappoint a lesbian a little more.


	14. Chapter 14

**To: Seijuurou**

**From: Taiga**

**Subject: ?**

**Am i doing this Line thing right. Skype? Sat? urday? my sat ur sun. any time. u can wake me up. ill leave skype on and turned up loud. miss u.**

 

It is absolutely a form of slow torture to even agree. 

 

Akashi cancels practice for the sole purpose of _making sure_ he can make this work. He cancels, holds up in his dorm for the entire day, and gets so ahead on homework while waiting for a suitable time to call that it's going to be even more absurd to go to class during the week. 

 

Finally, he signs onto Skype, and tries not to put too much effort into smoothing his hair, or looking any sort of presentable, because that signifies that he cares and--he does, an awful lot. Wrapping up in five blankets and turning himself into a cocoon to keep out the encroaching chill of winter cuts out that need for now.

 

**YUKIMARU2012 is calling**

 

Kagami answers on the first ring, clicking onto video chat, face lighting up with a huge smile. There are slight bags under his eyes, probably from having woken up several hours before dawn to sign on, because what if that’s the only time Akashi can get free, and a little bit because he’s so excited to talk he can’t sleep. “Seijuurou, hey! Ah...”

 

His throat closes, eyes unexpectedly burning at the sight of Akashi’s face, moving and alive and not static like the photograph of the two of them Kagami keeps in his wallet. Dammit, he’s supposed to have himself under control, he’s not supposed to be ready to cry at the mere sight of him. “Wow. Sorry,” he mutters, blinking rapidly. “I just...man, I miss you.”

 

It shouldn't be so much of a surprise that Kagami looks the exact same as always--it's not like it has been an _eternity_ since they talked, either, it's just…not frequent, at all, and that's…. 

 

Stomping on the urge to start getting emotional is like a steel-toed boot to the gut, but Akashi endures it. "It's fine," he softly says, fidgeting underneath his blanket pile. "This is a good time for you, right? I'll admit, I'm not the best at remembering the time difference, especially with America's strange…daylight savings thing." 

 

“Yeah, that’s dumb, my teacher said it was something about farming...whatever. You, uh, look great. You been eating right?” It’s like torture not to reach out and touch the screen, and he can _hear_ how his voice goes soft, but who can blame him? It’s _Akashi_ , the one guy making him want to hop on a plane every other hour.

 

This is as much slow torture as it's always been, and Akashi represses the urge to slam his laptop shut and bang on Mibuchi's door in the middle of the night. No, he's _better_ than that, and he should be enjoying this for what it is, not what it isn't. "…I've been eating," he ventures, and then his traitorous mind just has to remind him: "It's not your cooking, but…well." 

 

 _Get it together, get it together._ "So," Akashi briskly transitions, leaning forward to flip on a computer game, needing _something_ of a distraction, "is basketball over there as good as you imagined it to be still? Are you having fun?" 

 

“Yeah, the ball is great. They’re already talking about next year--I have a recruiting meeting with the head coach for the Bruins next week. Hoping I don’t blow it.” And then without meaning to, his mouth blurts out, “Are you free in two weeks? I have a school holiday. I can come to Kyoto.” In his defense, he’d had no idea it would be so difficult to go more than a month, a week, a _day_ without feeling the soft strands of Akashi’s short hair between his fingers.

 

Akashi blinks, taken sharply off guard when he was _so sure_ he had a handle on all of this, and shakes his head reflexively. "The Winter Cup will be wrapping up. I'm not sure I'll have a lot of time, and I'll probably be in Tokyo. I wouldn't want you to come out if…" _If we wouldn't even get to see one another._  

 

This is getting stupid. Akashi sucks in a slow, calming breath, and plays a discouraging game of solitaire, because he doesn't want the sass of a computer beating him in anything he enjoys tonight. "Taiga, I really don't think I can talk about…relationship things, so if that's why you wanted to call…"  

 

“Oh. Oh, no.” Kagami’s heart sinks, and he tries to remember that they’d called it off mutually, and have to actually respect that. He grabs a strength-training clamp, and starts to work it with one hand, wearing his muscles out to calm his nerves. “No, that’s not why I...no. I just...wanted to talk to you. Also, hey, guess what? Nijimura Shuuzou is my new captain over here.”

 

Akashi is pretty sure that he's imagining that Kagami is saying things now, and it's weird. "Wait. What?" 

 

“Nijimura Shuuzou. The Captain from Teiko? Heh, he has some stories about all of you guys.” Kagami grins. “He said you were _real_ cute in first year.”

 

"What? _No_. What did he say?" Akashi defensively demands, barely resisting the urge to grab his laptop and shake it. The unlikelihood of this is overshadowed by the intense desire for it to be true…and also, the sudden, sharp flare of jealousy that makes his throat close up. Horrified at the reaction, Akashi swallows hard, shoving those thoughts onto the back burner when they won't go away entirely, no matter how he tries. "How…I knew he went to California, but…I didn't expect--like this, and at your new school…" 

 

“He got scouted too, in his sophomore year--that’s like, uh, tenth grade.” Kagami switches his strength grip to the other hand, doing a few reps while he enjoys Akashi’s reaction. “So he transferred here. Him and his siblings have a condo like, five minutes from my apartment. God, he’s--he’s _so_ cool, isn’t he?” From what he’s heard, at least Akashi will be able to commiserate with him on that front.

 

"He's very cool," Akashi weakly agrees, rocking backwards and tugging his blankets closer. "I'm glad to hear that he's doing well. He was a very good captain." _He was my captain first,_ a part of his brain unhappily reminds him. _This isn't fair._ "Is he letting you play power forward?" 

 

“Yeah. We did a one-on-one for it, and I edged him out, so now he’s our small forward. Man, he’s _really_ good at it.” Kagami notices Akashi huddling a little, and his voice softens. “He talks about you guys all the time. Mostly you. But, you know, I try not to bring you up too much. I don’t want him to, you know, get any ideas about you. And me, I mean.”

 

"Did he ask about me at all?" God, this is awful. Akashi nearly smacks himself in the face on principle. Since when has he put so much stock into whether or not people _remember_ him--

 

_Since always, this is nothing new, and they're leaving you behind again, so catch up already._

 

Back to his solitaire game. He clicks past an ace, and doesn't notice. "I mean, I know you said he talked about me, but that's different. I'm not sure what he would say, anyway." 

 

“He asked if you were doing okay,” Kagami says, hoping that’s the right thing, and trying to remember what else Nijimura had said. “He, he said he was glad you were still playing in high school..” He decides to leave out the part about Nijimura wiping Akashi’s snotty nose for him. That will just be a treat for only him to think about.

 

It's something, at least. "Mm. As if I could stop," Akashi mutters, and he adds, _trying_ to be casual about it: "Is he still, ah, extremely……attractive…." 

 

Kagami sinks down to the floor with a pitiful groan. “Just leave me here to die,” he mutters, letting the hand grip fall from his fingers. “Is it that goddamn obvious, really?”

 

"…Obvious? What's obvious?" Akashi warily asks, hunching down into his blankets. "I'm just asking. Objectively. For science. How tall is he now?" 

 

“Like, 185 centimeters, I think.” Kagami peeks up warily from the floor. “You weren’t teasing me for having a mad huge boner for him? Because objectively, for science, he’s hot like lava.”

 

Akashi groans, slowly listing to the side and pulling a blanket entirely over his face. " _Taller_ ………noooo…." It's a weak, pathetic sound, partially muffled by the blanket. "Taiga…life isn't fair."

 

“You too, huh?” Kagami asks gloomily. It’s easy to forgive the fact that it’s about another guy when he takes into account how absolutely cute Akashi looks right now. “And he’s _raising_ his little siblings!! Who slip up and call him dad! I’m gonna die of nosebleeds, I swear...”

 

"I might be begging you to stop, but if you don't keep supplying details, I'll probably die," Akashi pitifully replies, only his eyes poking out after a moment. "Maybe he'll get even taller…I was only 157 centimeters in middle school, now I almost miss it…why!" he suddenly explodes, smacking a hand down onto the bed. "Why is he like this?!"

 

“Did he do that thing, in middle school?” Kagami asks wistfully. “Where he’s joking around and being all friendly, and then he sees someone flub a layup, and his voice goes all hard like a steel whip? Hey, wanna see what he looks like now?” He pulls out his backpack, rummaging through for the first photograph of the all-new Montgomery Bishop Basketball Team. “I dunno what he looked like in middle school, but this....this is _damaging_ , Seijuurou! Not fair! What the hell are the odds that there’s a guy who’s _both_ of our type, and he’s fucking _straight_?”

 

A quiet, weak noise filters out, and Akashi's hand flaps helpless and pale against the backdrop of so many blankets. "I can't look at him right now, get that away from me. He's…….he was so touchy, nonstandard levels, he'd lean _on me_ to read team notes and his face would be in my hair or he'd grab my phone right out of my hand or food right out of my chopsticks…" A long, heavy sigh escapes. "Shintarou used to tease me relentlessly about my reactions, it was horrible."

 

Kagami lets out a strangled little noise. It isn’t like the idea of Nijimura and Akashi together isn’t...ah, _appealing_. “I wish he was still touchy like that. Seems to have gotten American-ized, I guess. Guys don’t really...do that, here.” And it’s a damn shame. “Then again, I guess that’s good, I’d probably really embarrass myself if he did.”

 

"I embarrassed myself no matter what, so you wouldn't be alone," Akashi gloomily recalls. "What was the term Shintarou used. Right. 'Like a cat in heat.' I swear I wasn't _that_ bad, but…" 

 

He trails off, heaving a long, resigned groan. If there's anyone that he can talk to about _anything_ anymore, it's Kagami (and Mibuchi, but the latter is _busy_ )… "I was _twelve_ and I still knew I wanted Nijimura-san to do me through a whole row of lockers. What's the American term, gay panic? Definitely that. Ugh." Akashi buries his face back down into the bed. "I sound so _disgusting_ , I'm sorry--I hate being horny and single." 

 

“You’re not alone,” Kagami admits, tugging his laptop over to the bed so he can flop down. “I can’t decide if it would be just as bad if I had someone, or...I dunno.” _Wish it was you._ Everything had been better in his heart, when he’d had Akashi. He reaches out unconsciously, brushing his fingertips over Akashi’s face, wishing it was the real thing. “I’m getting kinda desperate. I almost put an ad on Craigslist last night. Uh, do you know--it’s like this big free Internet site, you can...I dunno, post about hookups. You have to be 18 for Grindr, so...I’m probably not making a lot of sense in Japanese, huh?”

 

"Don't do something you'll regret," Akashi murmurs, shutting his eyes for a moment. "I would say I'm surprised you can't find someone over there, but I suppose if you're trying to keep it quiet, that's much more difficult. It's not like over here, where most people will cheerfully agree to never mention it." 

 

“Young guys want skinny scene kids,” Kagami mutters. “And everyone over 18 thinks they’re gonna get arrested. And I can’t go out with anyone I meet at school, or they could tell someone.” He pauses, then adds quietly, “Nijimura knows.”

 

"Ah." Akashi rolls onto his back, and flops an arm over his face. "Of course he does. I'm sorry that he's straight, you'd have my blessing in a heartbeat." 

 

“Threesome,” Kagami’s mouth says, before he can filter it by his brain. “Uh--wait, I mean--I mean, yeah, that’s what I was thinking about, but--um, I didn’t mean to _say_ \--”

 

"Oh, like I need _more_ material to build my own mental pornography. Thanks, Taiga." 

 

“Sorry. My mind has been kinda stuck on it for a while.” Kagami drags a hand down his face. “I didn’t, like, tell him about me. He just guessed. Oh, and he definitely knows about a lot of the stuff that was going on in Teiko days, he mentioned it to me.”

 

"I'm not even surprised. He's always been more perceptive than he lets on." Akashi exhales a long, measured sigh. "I'm not going to even ask what you'd want out of that threesome because I don't want to be tormented even more, but know that I'm thinking about it, and that it's probably great." 

 

“It would be amazing,” Kagami says wistfully. “Not gonna say I wasn’t imagining it. Probably him in the middle. We could both get a taste.” He flops over onto his stomach, groaning. “I’m gross.”

 

"…I want him to grind my face into a dirty gym floor. Don't talk to me about gross." 

 

Kagami lets out a strangled little noise, covering his own face with a pillow. “This isn’t fair. He’s straight and you’re in Japan and my dick is _so_ hard.”

 

"Well, he's straight and _you're_ in America and I'm so horny that even doing math for an hour doesn't make my mind shut up about it." 

 

“Take it out.” Kagami’s voice is breathy and eager, and hopefully not too desperate. “Just--it doesn’t have to mean anything, I just want to see it.”

 

"Taiga…" It's a soft, exasperated way that he says Kagami's name, but it's not like Akashi's already in the process of peeling himself out of blankets. "This is not something that we should get used to doing." 

 

“Just--humor me, it’s not like we get to talk often enough that we can get used to it.” If they _did_ get to talk all the time, they’d be dating still, not covertly fumbling in front of Skype cameras. He kicks off his own shorts, taking himself in hand as he adjusts the camera to angle down his body. “Can you see?”

 

Akashi tries not to drool like the pathetic teenager he is, and settles for nodding. "Y-yes. I can. Um. I need to go lock the door." 

 

Like _anyone_ would be coming into his dorm at this hour, but better safe than sorry. He hauls himself out of bed, darting over the door and turning the lock, and not-so-covertly dives underneath the frame of his bed for a second. "Sorry. If we're doing this, I'm doing it _properly_." 

 

“I want to _see_ , Seijuurou,” Kagami mutters, trying not to sound too impatient when he’s already hard and leaking against his fingers. “Are--are you getting something to...” He swallows hard. This might need a couple of rounds.

 

"You just _wait_." 

 

Akashi climbs back onto the bed, kicking his shorts off with a huff. "Now, _what_ was a good angle for this," he mutters, leaning forward to fiddle with the tilt of his laptop's screen. "This sounds terribly crass, but, well--you can't expect me to not get out my vibrator if you're going to talk to me about Nijimura-san." 

 

Kagami lets out a whimper. “U-um. Y-yeah. Ah.” He gulps, even just at the idea of Akashi and a toy like that, and his cock jumps and leaks over his fist. He clears his throat, then asks, voice low and rasping, “Would you call him that in bed? Or Captain? Or--nnh-- _Sempai_?”

 

"You're going to come before I even get it in," Akashi tosses back incredulously…not that he really _minds_ , because now, this is a lot about jerking off to the idea of Nijimura with his ex and that could be…less weird, less arousing, who even _knows_ anymore, so who is he to judge?

 

He drags over a couple of pillows, flopping back onto them. His own cock is already achingly, distractingly hard, and touching it would be the end of this conversation, he knows. Even just his shirt dragging against it is enough to make him shiver, and so that's hiked up, too. "…I'd like to think I could call him something other than 'sempai,'" Akashi mutters, feeling his face heat up over that far more than the process of grabbing for his toy and lube. "But maybe calling him that would make him fuck me harder." 

 

That does it, embarrassingly enough, and Kagami groans when he comes, spilling over his hand with one more hard squeeze of his fingers. “Ah...fuck, gimme a second, I’m gonna go again,” he says breathlessly, because damned if he’s going to waste this opportunity when it’s been three months since he’s seen another dick. “Can you lay back? I want, oh god, I want to see. What...what would you call him, then?”

 

"It's fine, don't…don't worry about it." Catch a glimpse of the way Kagami spills over his own fingers is enough to make his own breath catch raggedly, and Akashi holds out with a quick, desperate look up to the ceiling, his toes curling into the sheets before he settles back properly, lifting a foot to poke at his laptop screen and adjust it. "Tell me when the angle's all right," he murmurs, chewing slowly on his lower lip. "I'd…mmn. I'm terrible, I'd absolutely try to call him Captain in bed. 'Nijimura-sempai', too, though…" 

 

Just _saying it_ like that sends a twitchy little shudder through him, and Akashi gives up. His vibrator is not as big as he'd like for it to be right now, but it's at least _something_ when he twists to get it between his spread legs, and one slick push is all it takes to have it in as far as it can safely go. "I'm…I'm going to turn it on, okay? Hopefully," he adds on a breathless laugh, "this isn't too much like that video I sent before." 

 

Kagami’s cock doesn’t even bother getting soft, not when he’s got Akashi twisting a vibrator up his ass in real time for his pleasure. He licks his lips, shifting to raise up on his knees, liking the way that frames his body for the camera better--yes, much better, vanity is a good reason to move when his limbs feel like jelly. “It’s okay if it’s like that,” he breathes, eyes dilated as he swallows hard. “He’d, uh...yeah...maybe Nijimura would use one of those on you between rounds, when he was getting it up again.” That should do it, if he knows Akashi’s sexual habits by now.

 

It takes some real control not to kick his laptop courtesy of some extremely twitchy, tightly strung muscles when Kagami says things like that. "Not fair," Akashi returns on a groan, which quickly breaks into a hitching, noisy gasp when he fumbles to get his damned vibrator _on_ , and cranks up the setting high from the very start. That's a pleasant glaze to his senses, melting his spine out from underneath him, and leaving his cock rock hard against his stomach, twitching and dripping. "And h-he'd get you to use your mouth on him. That," he adds with a huff of breath, "would get anyone going again." 

 

Kagami feels a flush creep up his neck, but he nods, slowly working his hand over his still-hard cock, feeling it get slightly less shivery-twitchy, more pleasurable. “He’d just--take it however he wanted it, huh?” he asks, eyes lidded as they drink in the sight of Akashi spread out and clenching down on that toy. “He wouldn’t be too gentle, I bet. He’d grab you like that, too. Hold you where he wanted you.”

 

Being this riled up isn't making for that great of a video jerk-off session, he's _sure_ , but it's not like he can help it when Kagami is talking about the things his long-time crush and _extremely hot_ ex-captain would do to him. 

 

Planting his feet more solidly onto the bed is a mistake. That's tension up his legs and up his back, and that makes him twitch and clench even more with the vibration of his toy sounding in his ears. Akashi jerks with a gasp, clamping a hand down over his mouth before he can get too loud, and spills messily over his stomach and shirt, his breath hiccuping wildly when his cock just refuses to go entirely soft. Any sane person would _probably_ turn their vibrator down, but, well… "S-sorry, sorry, I'm not done, I promise--" 

 

“S-same,” Kagami pants, wrenching his hand away from his cock with an effort of will, trying to make this last. He brings it to his mouth involuntarily, sucking a drop of moisture off his thumb, imagining it’s Akashi’s, or even Nijimura’s. That thought makes his legs tremble, and he gasps. _I really need to get laid more often, this is absurd,_ he thinks wildly as his balls start to ache, already desperate again for release. 

 

“Maybe, ah, we could both suck him off at the same time,” he says, thinking of a few choice files he has saved to his computer. “Or--ah, you could do me while he’s in you, that sounds _good_ , doesn’t it?”

 

Mindlessly, Akashi reaches down to grab at his cock, squeezing hard before he can get entirely hard again and _immediately_ lose his mind. "Uh huh," he dazedly manages, his head flopping back over the side of a pillow when a long, aching shudder makes its way down his spine. 

 

"Both. Both….is fine. God, I bet he can go forever, he's got incredible stamina during a _game_ ," Akashi groans, twisting partially onto his side, his other hand sliding back, grabbing at the base of his vibrator to twist it slowly, pulling it out until he can't stand it any longer and then shoving it in again with a ragged, pleased sigh. " _Please_ tell me you've seen his dick." 

 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Kagami says with a helpless little groan. It would be stupid to say he hasn’t, not when they’ve shared a locker room for a month, when he’s had to wrestle with himself every damn time they’re next to each other at a urinal not to just...

 

“You need to see his shoulders lately. They’re something else. God, you look so good riding that thing.” His voice is shaky now, and he can’t help it when one of his hands reaches back, working a couple slick fingers inside himself, wringing a moan from his lips. “L-looks like you’re having fun.”

 

"If you were here right now, I'd ride _you_ until you couldn't breathe." 

 

This wasn't supposed to be about them, but when he's overstimulated, Akashi knows very well that his mind and mouth don't always line up. _Whatever_. He doesn't have time to care right now. His vibrator has one higher setting, and fumbling to turn it up to that makes his breath hiss out between his teeth in an attempt to keep back some high-pitched, noisy whining. "He could fuck you while I'm riding you--then you'd _really_ get the best of it." There--mildly back on track, still a little too wrapped up in what Kagami's dick would feel like again, but to hell with it. 

 

“God, I want him in me,” Kagami admits with a shudder of a laugh, twisting and spreading his fingers. There’s no time now to get out his own hidden toy, not when he’s this close and Akashi’s words are more than enough to do the job. His other hand leaves off his cock for a moment to pinch and twist one nipple, and he bites his lip on a yelp. _Has touching myself ever been this good?_

 

“Y-you know,” he pants, “I’m n-not into this kink, but--oh, shit, if there was anyone I’d call Daddy--” God, he hopes with the scrap of his brain still thinking that Akashi will never mention this to anyone.

 

"Fuck," Akashi inelegantly breathes, and promptly stuffs his face down into a pillow to get _some_ measure of sanity back. 

 

It does _not_ work. 

 

"That's…y-yeah, I get that." Getting off to the idea of calling Nijimura _sempai_ in bed is pretty close, truth be told, and _captain_ …well…same difference, at the end of the day. He fists a hand into the sheets of his bed, the other holding his vibrator in place to make it _much_ easier to grind back onto it--not enough, definitely not enough, but he's already so close again that it's not going to matter. "Important question--d…do you want him to treat you like you've been good, or bad?" he asks, half-laughing. "I don't even _know_." 

 

“Goddammit,” Kagami whines breathlessly, and tumbles forward to land facedown on the bed when he comes, fingers up his ass and one hand at his chest, spilling in hot wet pulses against the sheets. “Fuck, _fuck_ , I want both,” he admits, hazy and hungry for someone’s touch that isn’t his own. It sounds far too appetizing to have Nijimura/Akashi pet him, stroke him gently, tell him he’s been so good and will be taken care of--and to grind his face into the ground, turn his ass red in punishment, to fuck him within an inch of his life for his mistakes. “ _God_.”

 

At least at this point, Akashi doesn't feel an _ounce_ of shame in coming again. He bites down into his pillow, muffling the way his voice breaks when he spills--this time, coming hard enough that it _hurts_ when he squeezes down onto his vibrator, the arch of his spine making his muscles cramp and hands tremble. Here's hoping that Nijimura/Kagami wouldn't stop fucking him through an orgasm even that intense--at least he knows Kagami wouldn't, as per his usual requests, and that's _nice_ to remember.

 

Mindlessly, he grabs at the vibrator in question, not even able to turn it off all the way as he slowly pulls it out, panting and gasping with every inch. "Kill me," Akashi huffs out on a groan. "I am not made to survive with sex toys alone, just come back to Japan already." 

 

“You still busy in two weeks?” Kagami says, muffled completely into the bed before he can force himself to turn over. He doesn’t make it all the way to sitting up, just flopping over onto his back. Good enough. “Just...if there’s even a chance I can see you. I’ll come.”

 

Slowly, painstakingly, Akashi sits up, blinks dazedly, and tugs his shirt off before flopping back onto his side again to actually stare properly at his computer screen. "Tokyo," he settles upon. 

 

“Yeah. Okay.” Kagami stares up at the ceiling, watching white spots pop in a way that has nothing to do with the spackle. “Text you when I get there. Send me your address. Make sure you’re hydrated.”

 

"Mm. Taiga." Pawing tiredly at a computer screen is probably not the cutest thing he could be doing right now, but it'll have to suffice. "I'm sorry in advance," he quietly says, "if I…if it's not just…sex." Truthfully, Akashi doesn't know how to make it _just sex_ with Kagami; he's not sure he's ever succeeded at that.

 

“Idiot.” Kagami’s voice is fond, and a little resigned. “Like it could only be sex. How the hell strong do you think I am?”

 

"Stronger than I am. You're in America." 

 

“Not sure what you mean by that, but the way my knees go out every time I think about you says different.”

 

Akashi's mouth twitches into a vague smile. "You still _went_. Ah, I don't know. I don't know what I'm trying to say. I miss you." _I hate every single thing that has to do with being here when you aren't._

 

“Miss you too. More...I mean, I thought it was gonna be a hell of a lot.” Kagami closes his eyes. “But it’s more.”

 

"I…" If he starts talking about how much he hates it, he won't stop. Akashi shuts his mouth instead, huddles back down into his blankets. "It'll be good to see you again. Good luck looking Nijimura-san in the eye, in the meantime." 

 

Kagami barks out a laugh. “Yeah. That’ll be a fun adventure.” He wavers, wanting way too much to end it the way he had their previous Skype calls, then slams his laptop shut in irritation. _Soon. I’m sure it’ll make more sense when I see him again._

 

~

 

This week _could_ be going better. 

 

Making it to the quarterfinals of the Winter Cup? That's one plus, but an inevitable one, as far as Akashi sees it. Even subbing in and out various different players as their fifth man hasn't caused too many complications or headaches. 

 

The big negative comes after their win, when he receives a phone call from the Kyoto branch house. Meetings and talks about family matters--things he doesn't want to think about or worry about, not right _now_ , not when Kagami is supposed to be flying in to Tokyo and spending time with him during the few days that he's going to relax, unwind, and watch other teams battle it out. 

 

**To: Kagami Taiga**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Change of plans**

**Family matters. I'm being dragged back down to Kyoto…we'll have to see each other another time. Everyone else is still in Tokyo, enjoy the Winter Cup.**

 

**I'm very sorry.**

 

Akashi does _not_ nearly cry when he sends out that text, but he does avoid his team for the hour before his train leaves back to Kyoto, and he knows he could be more pleasant to the staff at home when he arrives. It's hard to be, though, when it feels like a dull ache is starting from his chest and going to every other limb of his body.

 

_Why, of all the times? Why now?_

 

It's not even anything eventful. It's _finance_ , enough to make him gnash his teeth, and talks of marriage, and what that means. He sleeps fitful and wakes cranky to a knock on his door, already grinding his teeth when it slides open. 

 

"Bocchama--I believe your assistance is required."

 

"With _what?_ " So help him, he's normally not so snappy with the household staff, but he is tired, and miserable, and very, very sick of doing anything for his family.

 

"It seems as though your horse has been delivered." 

 

That gets Akashi out of bed, at least, and sort of half-stumbling out into the hallway and hauling his yukata properly up onto his shoulders.  "What?" he manages, disbelieving. 

 

"Your horse, Yukimaru--"

 

"I know the name of my horse. Never mind, I'm going." 

 

" _Shoes_ , Bocchama, if you're going outside--"

 

That _is_ advisable, isn't it? Hastily procured geta, good enough; it's not a long walk, and a delivery man doesn't have to see him at his best, and he certainly isn't, when it comes to being freshly rolled out of bed. Whatever. Horse? _Horse._  

 

That's absolutely a truck and trailer, and _not_ one that he recognizes as being a company his father contracts out to regularly. Is this a way that his father is trying to make amends for once? Doubtful, after letting the stables at the Kyoto house stand empty for _so_ long out of spite, but…maybe?

 

The farmhand that jumps out of the passenger’s seat is a huge man, above six and a half feet high, with a newsboy cap pulled low over his face, dressed in rough, loose clothes. “Your horse, Akashi-sama,” he says, with a low, low bow and a slight nod of his head towards the servants.

 

The _voice_ is uncanny, if rougher than his mind wants to recall, and Akashi blinks hard. How asleep is he still, really. No, he's wrong. He is awake. Maybe. "……..Um--you are…."

 

“Man your father hired, Akashi-sama,” the man says, and lightly taps the side of the horse trailer, eliciting a whicker of response. “Had an easy ride down here, an’ no mistake, but he’ll be right glad to see you, Akashi-sama.”

 

The butler drifts back inside, and the man pulls off his hat, revealing a weathered, aged version of Kagami Taiga, grinning down at him. “Hi there, young sir!”

 

This is probably one of the _weirder_ things that has ever happened, and so help him, the only thing Akashi can manage for a moment is an extremely confused stare. "…I…eh?" Logically, America does not do this to a person. _Logically_. But the resemblance is _so_ strong--

 

The driver’s side door bangs shut, and a moment later, another identically-sized, identically-dressed man shows up on the other side of the small truck, this one clearly about seventeen years old and grinning from ear to ear. “See? I told you his face would be precious, Grandpa!”

 

Kagami Saiga laughs loudly, showing a couple missing teeth in back as he casually musses Akashi’s hair, then heads for the back. “Just a minute, I’ll get him out for you!”

 

Kagami slings an arm around Akashi’s shoulders, sliding as close as he can without being entirely appropriate. “Hey, _Akashi-sama_. Nice house.”

 

"I--you-- _why!_ " Too thrown off to properly censor himself, the only thing Akashi can really manage is to smack a fist down into Kagami's shoulder and stare up at him, a mix of thoroughly ruffled, confused, and elated. "How…Taiga, what… _when._ " Maybe he'll get past single words and into real sentences at some point, but not yet. 

 

Kagami looks precisely not chastised at all. He ruffles Akashi’s hair just as his grandfather had, and asks, “Surprised? I told you my grandparents had a farm down in the mountains around Kyoto, right?” Maybe it was Nijimura he’d told, whoops. “I called in a favor, so we went and got your horse. Got him, Gramps?”

 

“He’s a feisty one,” Saiga calls as the old man leads the horse out of the trailer. “Ho! Easy, there, my lad--Sorry, sir, he’s fighting to get to you--”

 

"You're terrible, you didn't tell me _anything_ ," Akashi exasperatedly says, just shy of stomping his foot, and entirely foregoes smoothing his hair--his bedhead was already hopeless, who cares--to whirl away from Kagami to his _horse_. "It's fine, it's fine, um, Kagami-san, just let me--"

 

He was fine until about two seconds ago, when he was still flustered and entirely off-kilter, but then there's his horse, and it takes some serious effort not to snatch the lead out of Saiga's hand. Getting nearly knocked over by a solid headbutt makes him just wrap both arms around Yukimaru's head, and shoving his face down into the horse's face at least stifles the first wet sniff that dares escape. 

 

Kagami waves his grandfather away, waiting until the old man is safely back in the truck before patting Akashi’s back, squeezing his shoulder. “What was I supposed to do?” he murmurs, hoping this isn’t too distinguishable from afar, just in case anyone’s watching. “I was already in the airport. Wasn’t gonna go home without seeing you.”

 

"You're making it really hard for me not to kiss you right now," is the muffled huff against Yukimaru's face. The horse in question rocks back with a snort, and Akashi gratefully lets himself be lifted off the ground a couple of centimeters, losing a shoe in the process. "Taiga, you're not playing fair at all." 

 

At least when he lifts his face, it's not tear-streaked and gross. Mostly, he's a mix of put out and too happy with this situation for words. Yukimaru starts lipping at one of his sleeves, and Akashi couldn't be happier about it. "Can you stay? You came down all this way--I can't go back to Tokyo this weekend…who even told you where I _live?"_

 

“Tatsuya. Obviously.” The sudden snarl on his face proves that he’d had to play _very_ nice in order to get that information. “I’m here to see _you_ , loon. Of course I can stay.”

 

"But I mean like, _stay_ -stay. Not in a hotel. Here. Um." Akashi sways with his horse's next headbutt. "Is there anything I can do to thank your grandfather? He looks _so_ much like you, it's very weird." 

 

“Yeah...it wasn’t that obvious when I was little,” Kagami says, casting a look to the truck, “but now that I’m a lot taller, it’s kinda weird. Anyway, yeah, sure, if I can? Tatsuya said Reo-nee said your dad was up in Hokkaido for a meeting this week, so...I guess I had a hope?”

 

Akashi nods firmly. "You're staying, then. At least I now know you age well," he murmurs, and he grabs Yukimaru's halter, hauling his head up and pressing a firm kiss to the horse's nose. The point better be taken. "I can't even be angry that Reo is clearly sharing my information if this is the result…I can't believe you," he huffs, still clearly in something of a happy daze as he tugs Yukimaru along behind him to the stable. "You brought me my _horse_." 

 

“Well. Yeah.” Kagami follows, watching as Yukimaru takes a firm, fond bite of Akashi’s hair. “You have everything else, right? But I wanted to get you a present, and I remembered what you said about your dad saying it was just a delivery problem...so I figured if I could get him here, it might be okay? Or that he’d be like my dad is when he gets a big client, and wouldn’t notice anything under his fucking nose.”

 

"I don't know what he's going to say, but I don't care. He'll probably tell me I'm resourceful," Akashi contently says, half-heartedly tugging his yukata's sleeve out of Yukimaru's teeth when he goes in for another bite and doesn't let go. "Ah…you're normally not this bad, why. Did you miss me? Taiga's here, so you're going to have to wait." 

 

At least Yukimaru seems pleased about being back into his old, familiar stall of half a dozen summer vacations, and Akashi unbuckles his halter, hanging it on the door before drifting off to make sure Yukimaru's hay and water situation is taken care of--well. First things first, grabbing Kagami by the front of his shirt and hauling him down for a swift, sweet kiss is important, because now, no one can see. "Please stop being perfect, or I'm not going to let you go back to America." 

 

“Don’t tempt me,” Kagami murmurs, squeezing Akashi by the waist, tugging him close for another soft kiss before letting him go. “Your horse is _really_ gorgeous. My grandpa wouldn’t stop talking about how much his mares would want to get to know him, and one of his dumb big stallions, too. Real creepy. I dunno, I think he was talking about you and me, kinda.”

 

Akashi spares a wary glance over his shoulder and out of the stable before he blinks back up at Kagami, his brow furrowed. "Does he _know?_ " he asks, voice low. "Or was it just some kind of a coincidental metaphor, or…" 

 

Yukimaru chooses right about then to put his entire foot into his empty water bucket as protest, and Akashi pulls away with a sigh to drag over the water hose. "I had no idea you had family down in Kyoto. Or maybe you told me, and I forgot. Sorry, so much has been going on lately." 

 

“I don’t even know, man, I might have told--that’s right, I told Nijimura, because his family has a farm up in Sendai,” Kagami recalls at last, helping to unkink the water hose. “I dunno if it was on purpose. I don’t--I mean, I don’t exactly spend a lot of _time_ with them, not sure how he’d know about me. That horse is kind of an asshole, by the way.”

 

"Hmm? He just wants attention." As demonstrated by the fact that Yukimaru gratefully dunks his head into the water bucket, and sloshes it to the side at least twice before it's entirely full. "Maybe your grandfather just guessed…well, he doesn't seem to mind, if that's the case…" Akashi vaguely frets, brushing it off with a shake of his head. At about that point, Yukimaru lifts his soaking wet head out of the bucket, and starts lipping and biting at Akashi's sleeve again, dripping water all over him in the process. "And he brought me this perfect animal, so even if he did mind, I couldn't complain too much." 

 

“You’d be wasting your breath to complain to him about anything,” Kagami says, leaning on the stall door with a slow smile, watching Akashi with a joy like watching the sun come out after months of rain. “He’s a great guy, just very...he does things at his own pace, when he wants to, and there’s never any changing his mind.”

 

"Sounds like he fits into Kyoto's countryside just fine, then. Oh my god, stop eating me." 

 

Prying himself away to retrieve hay is easier said than done, especially when his horse is absolutely trying to follow him out, and Kagami is _there_ and very handsome. "But really, if there's _anything_ I can do to properly thank him," Akashi adds, disappearing into the feed room for a second and bringing a sizable flake of hay with him when he reemerges, "let me know? Having Yukimaru here…well, I'm sure it'll feel lonely again, when you're not here, but it's still…" 

 

“It’s better, right?” Probably silly, how eager Kagami is to be told that Akashi is _happier_ , that he’s _healthier_. He leans back on the door, resisting the urge to pick up a stick of straw and put it in his mouth, like in an old movie. “I just hated thinking about you sitting there, looking out the window and knowing that you could be riding when your dad was powertripping--and knowing that Yukimaru would be thinking about running with you.”

 

"…You are _so_ good," Akashi mutters underneath his breath, hiding the flush on his face as he shoves hay into his stupid horse's stall. Of course Yukimaru immediately goes to sink his teeth into it, and comes back up with a mouthful that subsequently gets dripped all over him. This is a typical reacquainting process. This is fine. "No one has ever--" He shuts his eyes briefly, and picks a piece of hay off of his face. "You are husband material. I hope someone has told you that before." 

 

“I think you have, when you were drunk at my apartment that one night,” Kagami says, thinking back with a frown. “You told me to hit you over the head and carry you off, caveman-style.” He gives a lopsided smile, quirking up at one edge. “So, is that offer still on the table, or...”

 

It’s easy to poke fun, but a lot more difficult to watch Akashi moving around freely, happy and finally given a purpose, and know he isn’t much of a part of it, here at the mysterious Kyoto palace.

 

"Yes." He probably answers that too quickly and enthusiastically, but to hell with it. Yukimaru finally starts to settle, content with slowly chewing and done with sharing with his owner, and Akashi drifts out of the stall, latching the door behind him. "The horse has to come," he says, unapologetic, "but so long as he's included…he does make a good escape vehicle, that much I can say. Ah, talking like this is just going to make both of us upset, isn't it." 

 

Akashi slumps back against the door, raking a hand back through his hair in an attempt to brush it free of hay. "Would you like a tour, then? You haven't missed all of the leaves yet, lucky."

 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Kagami steals another kiss, swiping the tip of his tongue over Akashi’s bottom lip, brushing his hair back from his face for him. “You know,” he says, almost conversationally, “I’m kind of over this whole ‘being miserable now just because we’re gonna be miserable later’ thing. Maybe making out and talking about running away together will make it worse later, but I dunno, it might make it better, and it’ll be _great_ right now.”

 

Akashi helplessly sighs up at him. "Every single time we talk, it feels like we're dating," he says. "And with you here, it feels like we never stopped. Is there a technical term for this?" He pauses, and adds accusingly, "You got _taller_." 

 

“Did I?” Kagami asks, perplexed, then looks down at Akashi. “Huh. Guess I did. It’s hard to tell, everyone on the team in L.A. looks like a damn giant.” He pauses, strolling out of the stable, trying not to feel too much like an incredibly wealthy man with a sweetheart on his arm. “I think the term is _still in love_ , at least on my end. I’m kinda to the point of just accepting that it’s not going away, not for you.”

 

"I better not be done growing, this isn't fair," is the distracted, grumbling mutter underneath his breath as Akashi lengthens his stride to follow next to him. "...In the spirit of attempting to stay sane, I've been trying to have actual conversations with my fiancee," he admits, and decides that latching onto Kagami's arm to tug him towards the estate proper could be a worse idea. It's not like his father is here, who else would say anything or think anything of it? "It was a poor decision. What do you even _do_ with girls?" 

 

Kagami focuses on that small point of warmth on his arm with every bit of his consciousness, reminding himself _not_ to just lean down and kiss him out in the open like this, when any conscientious maid could look out a window and witness the young master’s scandal. “Me, I disappoint them,” he offers conversationally. “Oh, didn’t you hear? I have a girlfriend.”

 

" _What?_ " Akashi incredulously replies. He might be digging his nails into Kagami's arm a little now, whoops. "Since when?" 

 

“Ow, _ow_ , Seijuurou, that hurts! Ah...yeah, a few weeks? Nijimura wanted to go on a double date, because this girl he liked wouldn’t go out with him unless her friend had a date, so...”

 

"Oh." Akashi loosens his hold somewhat. "Well, I hate that, I'm just going to tell you right now. Sorry, I know we're not supposed to be jealous, but I really do hate it." _Girls_ get to cling to guys in public, and kiss them and generally be very obvious. More and more, he's begrudgingly deciding that Mibuchi has been onto something all along.

 

Kagami shoots him a dry look. “How do you think I feel about your _fiancee_?”

 

"That's--we're not _dating_ , though," Akashi defensively replies. "It's supervised visits only, and if you think that sounds awkward, you'd be right." He hesitates, then tiredly admits, "She goes to a neighboring girls-only school, and has recently taken it upon herself to start showing up on Rakuzan's campus. That's been a little…" 

 

“But you’re going to _marry_ her,” Kagami says incredulously. “That’s way more serious! Aren’t you planning to, like, have _kids_ with her and stuff? I’m just letting some shy lesbian sit next to me at the movies once a week. Kid stuff.”

 

"…What do you mean, a shy _lesbian?_ Is she just a cover, then?" This is getting stupid, as per usual. "You can be jealous of my fiancee all you want, but it's not like I have a choice in it. If it wasn't her, it would be someone else." 

 

Kagami stops walking, turning Akashi to face him. “Seijuurou. I’m not jealous that there’s a girl who gets to be with you. I’m jealous that I _don’t_. I don’t care who she is or what she’s like.”

 

"Well--same," is Akashi's swift retort, his arms folding. "Honestly. Life would have been so easier if you were a woman." 

 

“Why do _I_ have to be the woman? You’re the pretty one.”

 

"Because--hm." He was sure he had some sound reasoning a moment ago. "The point stands either way. I never thought this would bother me so much," Akashi adds, frustration seeping through into his voice. "But seeing Reo and _your friend_ \--it's embarrassing but still enough to make me want to grab the nearest guy and kiss him in public."

 

Kagami stares at Akashi for a moment, then slowly, deliberately turns away. “Don’t ask me about that,” he says quietly. “I’ll tell you to do it and run away with me. I hate thinking that you’re just going to be miserable forever, no matter what.”

 

"I've told you before, throw me in your suitcase."

 

Akashi trots up after him, the quiet clop of his geta on the pathway stilling when he lets his head thunk against Kagami's back. "I'm getting worse at this," he softly admits. "I'm not saying that to try and guilt trip you, or to make you feel bad. I'm…just not very good, without you. I don't know what to do to change that anymore." 

 

“You’ll do it,” Kagami says, calm, quiet, and confident. “You’ll do it until you don’t want to anymore, you know? Or until you can’t.” He turns, holding Akashi’s shoulders, looking into his eyes. “And then we’ll figure it out from there. Okay?”

 

"I _already_ \--"

 

 _Don't want to do any of this and don't want to be here and don't_ care _._

 

Akashi bites his tongue, settling back onto his heels, and he shuts his eyes with a long, shaky exhale. "Even if I wanted to take off and run away, what are _you_ going to do with me? It's not like you can be out and have a boyfriend if you're trying to play in America."

 

Kagami’s stomach churns at that old, familiar fear for a second...then, surprisingly, settles. “Eh. I’m good enough,” he says slowly, even though he’s saying it aloud for the first time. “That’s something I’m realizing over the past few months. And it’s more common in college ball--even since I went over, three guys have come out, and one of them is on Pepperdine--they just sent me an offer letter, too. UMass, Baylor, Penn State...” He shrugs. “And I’m good enough that they’d just have to take it. If Nijimura doesn’t care...then who should get to tell me how to live my life? I’d rather be a garbageman and living how I want than an NBA star living a lie.”

 

"…I like how you've known Nijimura-san for only a few months, but now he is the standard for what you should care about and what you shouldn't," Akashi slowly says, a mix disbelieving and vaguely entertained. 

 

“More like, he’s the kind of person whose opinion I care about,” Kagami says, unwavering, unwilling to be distracted. “And he thinks I’m okay even if I like dick, so what should I care what other people think? What should _you_ care?”

 

"Because I _have_ to," Akashi defensively replies. "It's not just me that I'm representing. Even if I think it's fine to…be like this, there are a lot of people--people whose opinions matter outside of whether or not I _care_ about them--that don't think it's fine." 

 

“Well, then, I guess it’s fine, right?” Kagami lets his hands drop, and gives Akashi a lopsided smile. “If you’d rather be like this, then I guess it’s fine. So don’t stress about it. I’m not exactly chomping at the bit to march downtown in a rainbow parade, you know.”

 

"I'm…Taiga, it's not fair when you sound disappointed like that, you know. You sound like a real Kyoto native." 

 

Kagami barks out a laugh, slinging an arm around Akashi’s shoulders as much as their respective heights will allow and dragging him back towards the house. “No, I mean it. If you’d rather keep pleasing everyone, then that’s more important to you right now. I can live with that. Just...if it ever changes, let me know, and we’ll do something terrifying together.”

 

"I don't want to keep pleasing _everyone_ ," Akashi groans, letting his head knock solidly against Kagami's shoulder. "I'm just hoping to graduate high school without the spirit of my dead mother coming back to wag her finger at me and declare me unfit for the house of royalty that is her name. That kind of thing. Take your shoes off, you low-bred swine." 

 

Kagami steps out of his shoes, wriggling large feet into the biggest slippers available with a wince. “Don’t call me that, I’ll start liking it. I wasn’t talking about right _now_ , anyway. Just...ever. Offer’s there. So stop making sad faces at me like it couldn’t possibly work, okay?”

 

 _But what if you find someone else_ or _you'll get sick of waiting_ sits in the back of Akashi's mind, but he shoves them aside, unwilling to speak of them lest that might make them come true. "Okay," he agrees instead, dropping it. "Anyway, it's still early, have you eaten? I think the staff will be happy to feed someone enthusiastic for a change…" 

 

“If you think they’re up to the challenge,” Kagami says with a glint in his eye. “Uh...there’s some meat, right? Not just tofu? No offense to tofu, but...”

 

Akashi gives him a wry look. "If you came here expecting Japanese delicacies, you're out of luck. Believe it or not, my father prefers western food, so guess what the staff is well-versed in." 

 

Kagami raises an eyebrow. “So if I wanted a burger, for example...or a big steak?” He might be drooling, just a little bit.

 

Akashi takes him by the hand, pulling him along through the first narrow, then rapidly widening hallway. "Kobe beef. The real kind, you're welcome." 

 

“W-wait, really?” Kagami might be running a little to keep up now. “Seriously? Can you make it rare? If it’s a good steak, it _has_ to be rare...I guess medium-rare if it’s a ribeye--are there potatoes too? But if it’s real Kobe beef, it _has_ to be about the meat...” He’s definitely drooling now.

 

"Wipe your mouth, Taiga." 

 

A light knock on the kitchen's doors preludes Akashi sliding it open, and the short, portly cook hops up from where she's hunched over a book to bow. "Good morning, Bocchama."

 

 _Not in front of my friends, especially my boyfriend!_ is the age-old whine that Akashi wants to stomp his foot about, but represses only with a brief, weary shut of his eyes. "Good morning, Miyazuki-san. This is my friend, Kagami Taiga--he just came back from America, and I've been bragging about your skills, so please feed him properly." 

 

Kagami starts to bow, then looks sidelong at Akashi and stops hesitantly. Is that embarrassing? To bow to someone considered ‘staff’? He’s never been much of one for bowing anyway...

 

Whatever, his grandfather would slap him upside the head. He bows, and says stiffly, “Please take care of me, yeah? Uh, thanks.”

 

The look on Miyazuki's face is one of pure delight. "Seijuurou-bocchama, he's--"

 

"Please brace yourself," Akashi mutters underneath his breath.

 

"Adorable! Is he one of your basketball friends? He must be, he's so tall! Whatever y'want, let me just--" 

 

The Kyoto-ben comes in waves, and Kagami _does_ end up with a steak the size of the plate, plus potatoes in earnest. _Fortunately_ , it's hard for even western-trained cooks to mess up a good miso (especially sans seaweed), which Akashi neatly picks the tofu out of to eat individually while Kagami destroys his own meal. "If you keep bowing to them, they're _all_ going to gush over you like that," he gently explains once Miyazuki leaves them to eat. "But if you like that, then keep at it." 

 

“If it keeps getting me food like this,” Kagami says, a beatific smile on his face as he devours his steak with unrivaled gusto, “I’ll put my forehead on the ground, see if I care! Oh, man, how sure are you that I can’t steal her away?”

 

"She'd probably marry you. Make her an offer, she likes tall men." 

 

“My fiancee is way better than your fiancee,” Kagami gloats, mopping up steak juices from the plate with a mount of mashed potatoes the size of his head, thick with cream and butter, bright and tangy with fresh herbs. “I’m thinking a June wedding.”

 

"Do you know how hot it is in Kyoto in June?" Akashi dryly reminds him, chin in one hand as he watches fondly. "Miyazuki-san certainly does have an edge in cooking over Kotone, plus she'd want to cook for her own wedding. My god, your children would be culinary geniuses."

 

“O-oi! No one said anything about children!” That, clearly, is getting _much_ too carried away.

 

"Too late. Be resigned, you've already eaten her steak. It's like a pact in a noble house." 

 

This, if he's ever seen it, is a start to a great weekend.

 

~

 

When one's not-really-boyfriend shows up from America, what else is there to do except find somewhere _private?_

 

There's not anywhere particularly safe in the house itself. Akashi knows that well, courtesy of servants barging in at all hours. He's used to that, and happily plans for it, because if there's one thing he does know--it's that _no one_ bothers him when he has his _horse_. 

 

Warding off the urge to make out with Kagami overnight? Nearly impossible. Dragging him out to the stables first thing in the morning? A _much_ better idea, and a surefire cure for jet lag. "No one comes out here on the weekends if I'm home," Akashi explains, hauling a saddle rack in front of the tack room door. "And now that I have an _excuse_ to be out here with a friend…" 

 

“A friend? Who?” Kagami teases, hoisting Akashi up and setting him on a case full of extra tack, pinning him back to the wall. “Anyone I need to be jealous of, hmm?” 

 

He steps forward between Akashi’s legs, swearing that he can feel the heat radiating out from Akashi’s body. Maybe that’s just them. It’s still electric, when they touch, and there’s a fierce pleasure in Kagami to know that at least that much is still true.

 

Akashi's lips twitch up in amusement, and he grabs the front of Kagami's shirt, hauling him closer when he leans up to get his mouth first on the side of Kagami's neck, then up to his jaw, biting softly, then sucking with a slow exhale through his nose. He was pretty sure he wanted to bite and claw and eat Kagami alive two seconds ago--and he still _does_ , but feeling that languid, sizzling crackle of air between them is almost like a drug, slowing him down and making him want to savor. "Not a friend, then--a lover? Suitor? Thug from America here to steal me away? Pick one, all are quite appealing." 

 

“Rugged farmhand intent on deflowering the maiden in her castle,” Kagami suggests with a lazy smile, sliding his hands down Akashi’s sides, getting his fill of touch by any means necessary. He cups Akashi’s face, tilting it up for a slow, heated kiss, nibbling on a full lip with just the tips of his teeth. “Or in the stables, at least. Very romantic, I think.” Maybe he’s been spending way too much time alone with HBO.

 

"Why do I have to be a maiden?" It's not a terribly enthusiastic protest, not when Akashi's hands are already dragging their way up to Kagami's shoulders, kneading into muscle that he _swears_ has gotten even broader and harder, which…is incredibly nice, he has to say. A sound catches up in his throat as a low, rumbling groan, and Akashi nips back, increasingly eager for deeper kisses. "Mmnn, whatever," he dismisses on a pleased sigh, grabbing at the front waistband of Kagami's pants. "I can be deflowered again, I'm fine with that." 

 

“It’s always a maiden in movies,” Kagami points out with a low sigh when Akashi goes right for his pants. _Otherwise, they’d never get their happy endings._ “Where’s that flower you got for me now, huh?” he asks, arms around Akashi’s waist, pulling him in for a long, slow kiss.

 

“... _at once, Miss,_ ” Kagami hears much too late, as the lock to the tack room clicks open, door shoved aside a second later.

 

There’s a flash of a girl’s face, a ‘splat’ of something being dropped, and the quick slam of a door closed again, followed by a high, startled voice saying, “Butler-san, you’ve led me to the wrong place! There’s nothing in there but dusty old saddles! Ah--he must be out, I should get home right away...”

 

Akashi's mind turns to a long slew of curses and the inevitable, panicked repeat line of _Did she see, how much did she see, of course she saw!_

 

"Stay," he hurriedly whispers, bolting away and darting towards the door, the saddle rack shoved uncaringly aside to make it easier for him to squeeze out. Sure enough, it's his fiancee, Arisugawa Kotone--dressed up like she's ready to go on a _date_ , for whatever reason. His only blessing, _probably_ , is that he isn't covered in hickeys yet, and maybe she'll think what she saw was just a trick of the light or something like it--

 

_Unlikely, she's not stupid, damn it, damn it, damn it. Why is she here?!_

 

"Kotone! Um, good morning. You didn't call to tell me that you'd be coming over, so I'm not exactly…ah…" The least he can do is wave his butler away. Maybe then he can commit suicide unhindered. 

 

Kotone’s face is pale white, with two spots of shocking red in her cheeks, looking for all the world like a painted doll in her surprise. “A-ah, Seijuurou-sama,” she squeaks, sinking into a demure bow. “Please forgive me, I made a mistake in thinking I could intrude on your p-personal time, I’ll take my leave--”

 

Damage control time, right. He's good at this with adults, with _other guys_ , but with high school girls…high school girls that he will be marrying some day…girls that definitely, _absolutely_ saw him making out with Kagami Taiga…

 

"It's fine, really, you're already here, so let's just…talk for a second, shall we?" Akashi extends his hand, and tries to pretend that there's not a vague tremor to it. "Kotone-san, please." 

 

Kotone buries her face in her hands briefly, trying to get some control of her expressions back. When she emerges, it’s with a perfectly-schooled expression of calm on her face and a deep breath, or as deep as she can take in her brightly-painted kimono. Carefully, she takes Akashi’s hand, her own cool and trembling as she settles into a lovingly-developed Kyoto-ben. “Please pardon this Arisugawa Kotone for intruding on Akashi-sama’s private time, and a thousand pardons.”

 

Akashi's gaze briefly flicks upward, tracing the rafters of the barn, praying to his mother and maybe the manliest, straightest god in the universe to give him strength. Aren't most gods fairly bisexual, though? _Send help anyway._ "…Kotone-san--" He wavers between telling her that formalities aren't necessary, and finally decides to wing it. She's already seen. She _knows_. Well, not the full extent of it, but she's seen enough to run to her parents and be able to call off the marriage with a hefty amount of shame tossed onto his own family name. "Let's just speak frankly." 

 

He squeezes her hand--gently, but still enough to make _sure_ she doesn't take off out of the stables when he says, "Whatever you saw…obviously, you weren't supposed to see it." 

 

Yukimaru chooses this point to start kicking the door of his stall, obviously seeing his master and wanting _out_ , and Akashi briefly sets his teeth into a grind. "So I would greatly appreciate you not repeating your knowledge of…any of it." 

 

Kotone ducks her head, drawing in a breath that only trembles a little bit, with the last of her hopes of maybe, _maybe_ making a match that was more than just a match. It’s all right; it’s what she’s been prepared for as long as she can remember anyway, though the fact that her awful auntie was right about this doesn’t bring her any joy. “Begging your pardon, Akashi-sama, but it has nothing to do with me,” she says, finally raising her head to meet his eyes. “Akashi-sama can do as he pleases. I--ah, this Arisugawa Kotone will not make the mistake of intruding on Akashi-sama’s private meetings. For business,” she states, quietly, but firmly. “This Arisugawa Kotone has no interest in...Akashi-sama’s business meetings, begging your pardon.”

 

_"You can literally be with any whore you want, just save it until you're properly married."_

 

The words of his father after having been 'caught' twice with a woman that's very much a hooker as an excuse ring in his ears, and…it makes him a little sick, to be honest. Was that his father's philosophy with his mother, too? The thought makes his stomach twist, and Akashi swallows, not quite able to hold Kotone's eyes for a moment. 

 

 _It's not the same, Taiga isn't just some random person_ he thinks, but that makes him feel even more disgusting, in a way. Being the kind of man that completely neglects his wife--his fiancee, at this point--for the sake of his own happiness isn't terribly appealing, no matter how uncomfortable even holding her hand feels right now. "…I owe you an enormous apology," Akashi quietly says, his pulse thudding in his ears. "If--if you aren't comfortable with this--say it now, and we can have the arrangement called off, I'll make sure they know it's my fault, not yours--" It's the least he can do, isn't it? What's worse at this point?

 

Kotone swallows visibly, and her hand tightens on his. “Akashi-sama,” she says, doing her level best to think on her feet, trying to think of what her parents would say, what her mother’s priest friend would say, what her friends will say, “if it...hmm. Ah. Please only break off our arrangement if you cannot stand me. I...” Her breath hiccups slightly, and she lowers her gaze, mortified. “Please forgive my rudeness. I intruded, then made Akashi-sama uncomfortable. I-if you cannot stand me, knowing that I’ve, ah, done something so unforgivable...”

 

She sinks to her knees, uncaring of her new kimono meeting the stable floor, and clutches the hem of his yukata. “Akashi-sama, please show me mercy!”

 

It's reflex more than anything that makes him kneel and clamp a hand over her mouth. " _Hush_ ," he hisses. "Do you _want_ every member of the staff to come running? Kotone-san, I'm not going to break off the arrangement, please listen to what I'm actually saying!" 

 

When convinced that she's not going to wail at him anymore, Akashi sags back, heaving a long sigh. "I'm not angry with you," he repeats, rubbing at the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Honestly…please stop talking so formally, now isn't the time when we're discussing something personal. You certainly have no penchant for speaking to me casually while I'm at school." 

 

Kotone hides her face in the long sleeves of her kimono, unwilling to let him see her face in such a state. “I--that’s _different_ ,” she mutters. “You didn’t start talking about breaking off the engagement and everything then--please, Mama would be so cross with me, she’d say it was my fault for not giving you what you wanted--if you want my body to keep you interested--” She moves her hands down, struggling with the back of her obi for a moment.

 

"No, no, no, that's really not the issue, I promise," Akashi hurriedly protests, grabbing at both of Kotone's hands and squeezing when he pulls them forward again to make her _stop_ trying to undress on the stable floor. "You're misunderstanding. I…the only reason I suggested that at all is because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, with, well, any of it? But that's not a problem, I guess, so we're not breaking off anything." 

 

 _Be! Charming!_ He has it in him, usually, to at least cast the illusion of an excellent boyfriend (fiancee), or so Mibuchi has told him with surprise written clear as day across his face (bastard). Akashi draws in a slow breath, and releases Kotone's hands to gently cup her face instead. "You're beautiful," he simply says. "None of this is your fault. You came out all this way to see me, and I've been awful. Please accept my apologies, and allow me to make it up to you." 

 

Kotone lets out a breath of relief that comes out a sob, and she throws herself forward, clinging to his yukata. “I t-thought I r-r-ruined everything,” she whimpers, eyes squeezed tightly shut, but not tight enough to stop a few hot tears. “It’s not--you’d tell me if y-you couldn’t want me, right? Mama said I was ruining everything by b-being too forward at school, she said m-men like a ch-chase--”

 

He can work with this, he can _absolutely_ work with this. "I'm not really fond of a chase, truthfully," Akashi says with a relieved little laugh, gingerly sliding his arms around her. If this were a historical drama film, this would be _absolutely_ scandalous, but he's fairly certain no one is going to chastise him nowadays for gently patting her back and letting her sob into his shoulder. "I'd much prefer you be upfront with me. It's very cute when you're honest." 

 

 _I should extend the same courtesy_ he bitterly thinks, but with these kinds of reactions…there are two ways to ruin a noble girl's future, and he's not sure he wants it to happen before it has even started. "Kotone-san…the only reason I said any of that at all is because I didn't want you to be hurt. I don't really relish the idea of running around with other people on the side, but, well…" Right, time to actually think fast, and come up with an excuse for _Kagami_. "He's an _American_ friend of mine…" 

 

Kotone sniffs, dabbing her nose on her kimono sleeve, then pulling back a little. “A...an _American_ friend, Akashi-sama?” That doesn’t entirely make sense to her, but--wait, don’t Americans kiss on the lips in greeting? Or was that the French? It wasn’t just that, obviously, but maybe such loose morals lend themselves to other kinds of looseness...or is that not what he’s saying at all? _I can’t look stupid in front of him. American--do they do this? Among men?_ “A-ah. Of course.”

 

 _Nailed it. Well. Sort of! Good enough!_  

 

"So of course," Akashi gently presses, "we're not going to mention it. After all, I don't think most Japanese people these days are as open-minded to foreigners as they claim to be…" 

 

Slowly, he eases himself to his feet, helping her up as well. "At any rate--why don't you head inside, and let the staff clean you up? I'll join you shortly, and perhaps we can have an early lunch together." 

 

“Ah...” Kotone slowly regains her feet and her balance, only clinging to him for balance a little bit, then waving her hand in front of her nose. “No, no, of course that would be foolish. Your friend--I mean, you have a friend here, I am the one interrupting. Ah, and I’ve even made you comfort me--what a useless woman, my aunts would say--and I was t-trying too hard to be impressive.” That catch in her voice isn’t for him, but for a lecture from her mother on the state of her new kimono, from her aunts on what nonsense she’s done to make him lose such interest in her, not to want to have lunch on a weekend...

 

"Kotone-san." Akashi sets his hands on her shoulders, leaning down a little to catch her eyes. One oddly nice thing about girls is that they are _usually_ shorter than him, and there's a vague appeal to that when it's a simple turn-off if it presents itself in men. Bleck. "I'm saying that I'm inviting you to have lunch with me, especially after you came out all this way." 

 

Yukimaru stretches his head slowly across the stall door, and Akashi smacks a hand into his nose before he can bite Kotone's flower-shaped hairpiece right from her bun. "And you haven't been properly introduced to my horse yet, so we'll do that later, too," he briskly says.

 

Kotone lets out another sigh, and kneels for a graceful bow, obviously one that she’s practiced. “Y-yes, Akashi-sama. Whenever you’re ready. I’ll just...” She looks down at her kimono, and says very softly, “Shit.” Then she looks up and smiles, then shuffles briskly back towards the house, geta clacking on the walkway.

 

Akashi wipes a hand slowly down his face, finally remembering how to breathe _properly_. He waits, just for a second, before turning on his heel and slowly making his way back into the tack room. 

 

The lock clicks. The saddle rack gets pushed firmly back into the door. "Taiga." 

 

Kagami looks up, but doesn’t move, still slumped down to the ground. His expression is entirely guarded, as if someone’s watching or someone’s listening. “Sei--Akashi. What’s...what’s up?”

 

Another deep breath, and Akashi strides forward, drops down next to him, and crawls right into his lap to grab him by the front of his shirt. "It's fine," is all he says before hauling Kagami into a hard, desperate kiss. 

 

The tension in Kagami’s muscles is enough to lift Yukimaru right now, and he positively crushes Akashi in his arms, sucking on his tongue, a harsh, grateful noise coming from his lips as he clings. It’s probably too much, but Akashi is strong, Kagami’s never needed to doubt that, and more importantly, he’s _here_ , and everything is _fine_. “God. I was so scared for you.”

 

Akashi's laugh is breathless and unsettled, his hands clawing their way into Kagami's hair before fisting there and holding tight. "I am not good at covering up mistakes with girls," he admits against Kagami's mouth, their foreheads knocking together as he breaks the kiss to breathe and talk. "But--I think--she's worried about her kimono getting dirty more than anything else. Forget it, keep kissing me, make me shut up about it." 

 

Kagami squeezes his shoulders, admiring the strength there as much as he’s clinging, and shakes Akashi a little. “You’re sure?” he demands. “You’re really sure she won’t say a thing? I’ll steal you away right the hell now if she does, don’t try me.”

 

"I don't _know_ if she's going to say anything," Akashi groans, swaying with Kagami's shake. "I _think_ she's too invested in marrying me to say anything, but what do I know? Taiga, I have to have _lunch_ with her and introduce her to my horse, I don't want to do that!" 

 

“Calm down, it’s okay,” Kagami mutters, even if he’s not entirely sure it is, in fact, okay. “I mean, nothing bad is going to happen to you, you know? The worst thing that could possibly happen is it’s your word against hers, and you’re way higher up than her anyway, right? I feel bad about thinking about it like that, but...”

 

"I know, I know, but it's not like I want to ruin her life. I already scared her enough by saying we could call everything off, trying to make this into my fault--maybe I should have kept at it, then my family _really_ would have disowned me, and I could have been kidnapped without them giving a damn." He's more than a little twitchy now, his hands shaking as they curl against Kagami's shoulders. "Why can't I just have a single, uneventful day with you? A locked door isn't even enough, this is the _one place_ I thought that no one would bother us, but--"

 

Kagami presses a firm kiss to Akashi’s lips, then hauls them both up to standing. “No use whining about it now. Go have lunch with her. Be a prince. I’ll eat some steaks in the kitchen then pass out on a futon somewhere, then when you show up we can go play with your horse or play basketball. What happens, happens, and we’ll take care of it. That’s the way life works, huh?”

 

Akashi wobbles for a second, then nods, his mental compartmentalization of that particular timeline almost audible. "Right. Right, this is fine. One more, though," he mutters, grabbing at Kagami to drag him down into another kiss.

 

Kagami makes it count, opening his lips to let his tongue brush over Akashi’s, savoring that taste that he’s only ever found on this man, only him. “She’d be stupid to turn down any part of you,” he says quietly, then fetches Akashi a sharp slap to the rear. “Go on. Meet you inside.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Being summoned to his father in Tokyo is never something he relishes, but at least this time, he can safely say that he hasn't lost a single competition this year. 

 

The trophy for the Winter Cup sits shiny and new amongst Rakuzan's other, past victories (minus last year, but they don't talk about that, no one does, it makes him _weird)_. Akashi doubts that will be brought up today, if ever, and that's fine. It's his own personal roster of success that he still has, and it's at least relaxing to know that he's still _good_ at so many things, basketball included.

 

Which, admittedly…is why he's wary of this meet-up. Why? What did he do? The assumption that he's done something wrong makes him feel like he's having an allergic reaction, and he fights down the urge to loosen his tie as he stands outside of his father's office, waiting to be called inside. 

 

The door clicks open, the sound of an old iron key in the lock a heavy, not especially comforting one. Akashi Masaomi sits behind the immense heavy desk that is his workroom’s singular feature, besides rows and rows of bookshelves and cabinets. “Let the young master in, then leave,” he instructs his valet, who bows deeply, once to him, once to his son, then takes his leave, shutting and locking the door behind him.

 

Masaomi nods to the wooden high-backed chair in front of his desk, not entirely looking up at his only son’s approach. “Sit. I need to talk to you.” It sounds like a chore.

 

If this meeting were about something terrible that he had done, Akashi is fairly certain his father would be less dismissive, and far more apt to hand him a sword to stab through his gut. That makes him relax somewhat, but not enough to lose his perfect, straight-backed posture as he carefully takes a seat, bowing his head. "It's good to see you, Father." 

 

Masaomi ignores that, switching to a new piece of paper. “You continue to excel, as expected. This has nothing to do with you, in a manner of speaking.”

 

He lifts a slip of paper off of his desk--a photograph, of a carefully calligraphed letter. “Arisugawa Ryohei, Kotone’s paternal uncle. This is his death poem. Extrapolate.”

 

That's an unexpected, strange blip in his radar, and Akashi blinks hard. Wary, uncomfortable dread settles into his stomach. His fiancee is far less troublesome after their awkward run-in in the stables, and far more of a _friend_ than he'd ever expected her to be, especially given that she has no qualms about playing shogi for hours, or arguing about how volleyball is much _cuter_ than basketball and that's why she plays. 

 

The point is--Kotone is a comfortable constant in Kyoto, calling him on the weekends, content to show up at Rakuzan's gym during practice hours, and he doesn't _hate_ that she's very pretty and smart and isn't afraid of his horse…

 

 _Is the Arisugawa family all right?_ is the first think he things to ask, but he swallows that down, settling back slightly. "When did he commit suicide?" 

 

“This morning, just before dawn.” Masaomi tucks away his pen, then folds his hands, looking up with lidded, drooping eyes that somehow look too large for his face. “A third brother, Arisugawa Takeuchi, was arrested last night. Forgery, fraud, and theft. Ryohei was involved, of course, and took the better option. Offer your condolences to the family today as I choose another candidate. That is all.”

 

The reflexive "Yes, Father" leaves his tongue before he can even fully process what Masaomi says. Akashi's fingers clench against his knees, and he rises before being given permission, spurred on by the fact that his father looks _exhausted_ , so maybe for once, it's actually worth trying to argue with him. "Of course I'll offer my condolences--but she shouldn't be punished for this. The Arisugawa family has always worked well with us, and if Kotone-san's father wasn't involved with this, then there's no real reason to call off our engagement." 

 

Masaomi blinks, startled when he would normally never show even that scrap of an emotion. “No reason? This isn’t a punishment, Seijuurou. You cannot be tied to a branch that would sully the entire family--and you cannot be responsible for bringing someone like that into your rank. Out of the question.” He pauses a moment, then allows, “I will consider that this was said out of the foolish youthful exuberances of love. You will not be reprimanded for asking.”

 

Akashi knows very well that he should let it go, because he's being offered an olive branch, and he should take it. "Father--" _When am I ever going to find anyone else that's actually easy to be around, that I can actually have a conversation with, and that doesn't seem to_ care _about having caught me with my not-boyfriend?_ "You've said it yourself, there's not anyone else," he desperately presses, planting his hands on Masaomi's desk. It's forceful enough to rattle not only the neatly organized container of pens, but a bottle of pills-- _out in the open,_ really, _Father?_ "I know I've complained about her before, but…" 

 

Masaomi stares, steely and intent, at his son for a long minute while seconds tick by on the clock. Finally, he looks down at his desk. “I assume you are attempting to ask, in a clumsy, hamfisted way, who I could possibly be arranging as your partner when everyone with excellent credentials has been paired up already. Fortunately for your cowardly way of asking, we have been lucky. There is a young lady who had previously been engaged to Kotone’s cousin, who feels as we do that the Arisugawa family is not worthy of our attentions. She will, most likely, become your bride at a suitable time. Owada Tsuguko.”

 

The way his mind is hardwired makes Akashi think of who that _is_ before he thinks of _why won't you ever, ever listen to me_ , and he rocks back slightly, feeling the need to quietly point out, "Owada-san is seven years my junior." 

 

“Indeed. Doubtless you’ll thank me for this in twenty years’ time when she is yet to turn thirty, and you will still be possessed of a young, fertile wife.” The pen comes out, and Masaomi begins writing anew. “She has been carefully raised, and will continue to be well-cultivated. The Owadas do not hold with the nonsense of allowing their offspring to attend public school, of which many of us have seen the error. Tsuguko is schooled on her estate. You will pay a visit soon.”

 

"And what, talk to her about the fifth- _ever_ set of kanji she's learning?" Akashi spits out without thinking, his fingers white-knuckled against his father's desk. _That_ was too much, far too sharp and far more of a protest than he's ever thrown out. Even when he's _faked_ an error in the past, he's always been apologizing. "I won't pay a visit to a _child_." 

 

Masaomi’s head snaps up, sudden cold fury in his eyes. He stands, towering over his son, voice cutting. “You will do as you are instructed. You will be excellent in _every_ regard. You will pay visit to any child I tell you to pay visit. And you will. Mind. Your. Place.”

 

A staring match with his father is something out of his worst nightmares, and it's even _worse_ , knowing that no matter how he tries to twist this argument in his favor, no matter how he tries to put his foot down and refuse, it _will_ pan out as his father wants it to--eventually. 

 

 _Eventually_ isn't right now, though. "Is that what you thought of my mother?" Akashi lowly asks, meeting Masaomi's gaze dead-on. "That she was _well-cultivated?_ You're talking about this _child_ like she's a broodmare. I _won't_ marry that." 

 

A heavy hand slams down on the desk, rattling his pen case. “I am _talking_ about her,” Masaomi says, slowly turning red in the face, “as if she is a girl who will do her _duty_ , as you are expected to do--as you _will_ do--”

 

He takes a deep breath, only barely keeping down the fury that threatens to turn his face purple. “You are a son of my household, and you will _not_ bring shame on it--none of your filthy exploits, you think you can just--you can be _forgiven_ for your weakness? Your _failure_?” His eyes are bulging and huge now, shot with red in the dim light.

 

"I've done _everything_ you've ever asked me to do! Where is the failure in that?!" If a staring match is one thing, a shouting match is at least twenty levels above that. Every rational thought Akashi has to _shut up already just shut up!_ is squashed by the fact he's seeing red, and his nails are cracking against his father's desk. "The assumption that _you_ are this household and that _you_ made it what it is is ridiculous! _You_ were brought into my mother's branch of the family, and while I understand that it's my duty to uphold it, if you think for one second that I'm doing it for you and yours, you're wrong!" 

 

“You-- _ungrateful_ ,” Masaomi spits out, leaning forward onto his hand when talking becomes too much, face purpling now. “To talk to me like--like that, you--how _dare_ \--” He sucks in a breath, loosening his tie, loosening his arm as if it’s cramping. “You are what will-- _destroy this family-_ -”

 

There’s a second where he tries to step forward, through the desk. Then he gasps, with a tight, choked sound, and pitches forward, knocking everything on his desk flying, pills and pens scattered to every corner of the room.

 

Akashi Masaomi does not move again.

 

Akashi stumbles back, frozen in place for what feels like an eternity. It's a few seconds maximum--long enough to stare at his father and how he doesn't move at all, not even a twitch for breath, not even--

 

"Sir? Sir, I'm sorry to intrude, but is everything--" 

 

"C…come in quickly!" Autopilot. He can run on autopilot through _anything_ , even this, even when logic says he shouldn't be able to. "My father, I think he's--" 

 

Getting shoved out of the way is a relief in this case, especially when the room suddenly seems to explode with people and activity and shouting and emergency numbers being called. It's a woman that grabs him, hauling him out into the hallway. "Young master--what happened?" 

 

"We were having an argument." No, he does not want to piece this together right now. "He--I think he was having trouble breathing, and suddenly he collapsed, I--"

 

Her utterance of _poor thing_ doesn't go missed by Akashi's ears. _He's_ the victim now? If they hadn't argued, if he'd just kept his mouth shut, his father was obviously already stressed, there's no way he can be… 

 

Two hours later, Akashi finds himself still hunched over his phone at the hospital, wavering on who (anyone?) to call, while no less than half a dozen suited men and women stand by arguing on how to best spin the death of one Akashi Masaomi. 

 

Fuck it. 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: In Tokyo**

**About to sneak out of a hospital. Do you want to harbor a criminal?**

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: Ah**

**I do not want to harbor a criminal. But if you are the criminal we can make an exception. Wear a disguise.**

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: No disguises, sorry**

**Appreciated. Details when we meet up…the court just north of your house? minus Takao, I'm begging you.**

 

 _Overwork_ is the whisper that makes rounds in his direction. _Overwork_ and _heart attack_ and the scandal of _amphetamines_ \--not that any of it matters. It doesn't matter, because _that argument_ was the tipping point, and it's his fault that his father is dead. No one wearing a suit seems to care about that, though, and they certainly don't care enough to notice Akashi quietly climb to his feet, slipping off down a hallway under the presumption of using the restroom. 

 

Blending in on the train is the quickest way to _not_ get noticed while he still can manage it. He feels numb. Not comfortably so, possibly caused by the cold? Of course it's cold, it's Tokyo, and a week before winter break and his birthday. Akashi shrugs it off, hands shoved into his pockets once he reaches the court in question, and drops down onto the nearest bench while he waits. 

 

Midorima arrives in disguise, because _someone_ needs to be a professional about this, he supposes. The sunglasses are large enough to go over his regular glasses, and he looks around covertly before proceeding to the court. He sees Akashi, then deliberately walks around the entire length of the court before heading over to him. “It’s called subterfuge,” he explains. “What did you do?”

 

"I killed my father." 

 

Midorima’s sunglasses fall off (clearly a design flaw), hit the court, and immediately shatter (a much worse design flaw). “Y-you what? He’s--he’s _dead?_ And you--”

 

He looks around, then slowly pulls his jacket up over his head, just in case there are cameras. “I don’t doubt he deserved it, but that was _not_ prudent, and now we have to formulate some sort of escape plan!”

 

"No point," Akashi wearily says, listing slightly to the side. "No one will ever accuse me, though they're wrong not to. We were having an argument, and he had a heart attack." 

 

“....Ah.”

 

Midorima slowly lowers his jacket, then pulls out a packet of tissues and starts wiping the sweat from his brow. “The next time you want to engage in theatrics like confessing to a murder that didn’t happen, may I suggest you do it to Kise? Or someone else the world will not miss?”

 

"As if Kise Ryouta would ever offer to formulate an escape plan with me." Akashi lifts his gaze, his eyes vague and unfocused as he stares up at Midorima. "Shintarou. I'm not trying to scare you, but I don't think I can be alone right now." 

 

“Any time you preface something with, ‘I’m not trying to scare you, but...’” Midorima mutters, but one sidelong glance at Akashi makes him wish he were the sort of man who could engage in casual, affectionate physical contact instead of being entirely repelled by such an idea. “You can stay with me. Unless...will they be looking for you? Not for, for a _reason_ , just...someone is always looking for you. Who...” What an awkward subject. Midorima tries to count family lines. “There--there weren’t any uncles, were there? Grandfather? Anything?”

 

Akashi's head slowly shakes. "None." His next breath is an unsteady one, breaking into a laugh. "I'm it. Isn't that _grand_. And even still, I doubt any of his associates have even noticed I've gone, not yet. God, how terrible am I, I'm not even sad about it, I'm just fucking terrified." 

 

“Not to be too blunt on a sad day,” Midorima says, very bluntly, “but why should you be sad? He was a fucking terrible person. Everyone was afraid of him, and no one liked him, least of all you. I’ve never heard you say a single positive thing about him.”

 

"He was still my father. I never even got to yell in his face that I'm gay," Akashi gloomily says. "In fact, he died because we got into a fight over a _girl_." 

 

“How embarrassing.” Midorima looks down at the ruin of his masterful disguise glasses, and tries to think of what Takao would say. He’s better at...people. “It can’t have been that, you know. The human body doesn’t work like that. He died because his body was in terrible condition. The last pebble in an avalanche did not bury the village.”

 

It does him some good to hear _logic_ , clean cut and honest, and that's why calling Midorima was the right choice for now. "That's what happened to me, though," Akashi quietly argues all the same. "One last push was all it took--like father, like son, I guess? I know it's not exactly the same, but being the straw that broke the camel's back isn't…good." 

 

Midorima turns, pushing his glasses up onto his nose. “Do you blame Murasakibara for your transformation?” he asks without preamble. “Even now?”

 

"I don't _blame_ him for anything." 

 

“Because it wasn’t his fault your mind snapped.” Midorima hears his own words, and knows they’re brutal. He also doesn’t know any other way to say them. “If it wasn’t him, it would have been Aomine during a game, or me beating you at a shogi match--it would have been something. So, too, it would have been something with your father.”

 

Akashi opens his mouth to argue, but every single word dies on his tongue, and he just nods, staring down at his hands, laced firmly together. "Fair enough," he says. He hears and believes it until it's about his father, and something refuses to click that piece into place. _Don't talk about it anymore, it doesn't matter now._ "Shintarou, it would have never been you beating me at a shogi match." 

 

“Chaos theory states that it could have been.” Midorima’s understanding of chaos theory is incomplete at best, misapplied at worst, but it absolutely means that he could have won at shogi, he thinks. “If you were a passerby with a cold that an autoimmune patient caught because they were stupidly exposing themselves to the outside world, you would not be that person’s murderer, Akashi. That is too self-centered.”

 

"It was an underhanded compliment. On one hand, I was saying that you're not good enough to beat me, but on the other, I was saying that you beating me couldn't possibly cause me any harm because I favor you." Akashi sighs, setting his elbows onto his knees as he leans forward. "I'm digressing. Sorry. I hear the point that you're making. I know that you're right. It's not making my mind shut up, though." 

 

“Nothing ever has, as far as I know.” Midorima stands, rubbing his hands briskly together to ward off the cold, taking care not to muss the tape. “As long as I’m not arrested for harboring you, you may stay in the guest room. If you want emotional reassurance, I recommend Takao.”

 

"Everyone shuts up during really good sex, and for about five minutes after," is the vague mutter to follow, and Akashi slowly rocks to his feet, exhaling a breath that turns to white in the cold. "You won't get arrested. I'm the one in charge now--" It doesn't work explicitly like that with finances and households and business matters, but it's close enough. "And I happen to like you." 

 

“That could be worse, I suppose,” Midorima says, and sets off at a brisk walk for his house that hopefully doesn’t look quite as nerve-wracked as he feels. “If you wish to sleep undisturbed, I recommend that you keep to your own room. I, ah, have a homework project due in the morning. I may be working all night. Noisily.” Takao Kazunari is absolutely waiting for him in his bedroom.

 

Akashi doesn't say anything to that. Midorima clearly thinks he's being subtle, and granting him that allowance this once is the only thing he can do that's probably considered nice. 

 

Midorima's house is warm, and quiet, and empty, apparently, except for one Takao Kazunari, who opens the front door for them like he lives there. "Yo, Akashi," he greets casually, obviously somewhat worried, but smoothing the majority of that out of his expression and mannerisms. How does one _do_ that, Akashi wonders, mystified, as he toes off his shoes. "Everything all right, Shin-chan?" 

 

Midorima hangs up his coat, then folds his arms. “No. My disguise sunglasses broke. Now I am at the mercy of any peeping menace who wants to catch a glimpse. Why are you out here?” The harsh words are at odds with the way his hand reaches out, brushing gently over Takao’s shoulder briefly even as he looks away.

 

"Making sure you're not bringing home any peeping menaces," Takao cheerfully, seamlessly answers, reaching up to give Midorima's hand a gentle brush back before it pulls away. "Do you need to be a good host, or are we retiring?" 

 

"I'm fine," Akashi quietly offers up, shedding his own coat. "Sorry to interrupt your evening." 

 

 _You are soooo not fine_ , Takao thinks with a single glance in Akashi's direction (so subdued! weird!), but poking and prodding at something like that isn't something he's into, unless Midorima gives the okay. "Eh, don't worry about it. Shin-chan was pretty enthusiastic, he's the one that _likes_ covert operations." 

 

“Idiot! I absolutely do not like anything of the sort!” He _will_ need new sunglasses, though. Just in case he’s needed for future espionage. 

 

He nods to Akashi, then sets off briskly for his room, not looking back to ensure Takao is following. Of course Takao is following. The second the door closes behind him, he whirls around and mutters tensely, “His father is dead. I have no idea what’s going to happen to him.”

 

Takao blinks rapidly, and glances back over his shoulder as if he could actually look at Akashi again through the closed door. "Holy shit," he settles upon as he looks back up to Midorima. "Like-- _dead_ dead? Recently? Did this just happen? Is he _okay?_ " Akashi might not have the best track record, but he's been at least relatively nice for about a year now, and Takao will admit that he's prone to forgiving some _serious_ assholish behavior if kind words are occasionally extended to one Midorima Shintarou. Also, who the _fuck_ can keep holding grudges when someone's dad has died?

 

“Of course he’s not _okay_ ,” Midorima snaps. “He’s _dead_ , you fool!”

 

"Shin-chan, I was talking about Akashi being okay! Uh, the younger one. Fuck, okay, I see the confusion. Seijuurou. Man, it's weird to remember he's got a given name, what's up with that?" 

 

“Of course he has a given name, idiot.” Midorima shucks his clothes, folding himself into his specially-made, extra-long sleeping yukata, finally removing his glasses. “I will be honest. I have no idea what is going to happen to him. I wouldn’t be surprised to wake up tomorrow and hear him using ‘boku’ again.”

 

"Can he not?" Takao says with a nervous laugh. "He's kinda cute like this. I mean, not like _this_ , he's obviously upset, but anything's better than him being like _that_ …" 

 

Takao spares a last, wary look at the bedroom door before shaking his head, raking a hand back through his hair. "If you need to do something to help him out, just let me know," he simply settles upon, and grabs Midorima's hand, tugging him over as he collapses back onto the futon. "In the meantime, you need to chill. You're as pale as a ghost, this really freaks you out, doesn't it?" 

 

Midorima lays his head on Takao’s shoulder. It’s always easier, physically, mentally, and emotionally, when his glasses are off, and he can’t quite see anyone’s judging faces even if they exist. “It’s...an upset. Sagittarius was first in Oha Asa today. And his father always seemed...” What is the word for someone indestructible, but in an evil way? “Adamantine.”

 

"Ooh, big word. You studying for a test or something?" Takao idly slides his fingers through Midorima's hair, methodically kneading along his scalp. "It might not seem like a first place kind of thing right now, but maybe…in the long run…I dunno, after everything I've seen and heard of his father--it seems like a blessing in disguise." 

 

“Except that Akashi is now sixteen years old,” Midorima points out, “and the head of one of Japan’s largest corporations, the last of his line, and still eighth in line for the Imperial Throne. As a high school second-year.”

 

"…He can hire people to take care of business stuff while he finishes school, though, right?" Takao presses. "Like--you obviously know more than me about how this works. When you put it like that…heh, I guess I'd probably get on the first plane out of here." 

 

“And you’d be on the first plane back,” Midorima says wearily, “when you discovered that those eager candidates for your assistant and manager were skimming off the top and redirecting all of your funds for their personal purposes. It takes more to manage a house like the Akashi Manor than one young man can handle--let alone all of his business interests. Some of them, I assume, will be held in trust until he’s old enough--but by whom?”

 

"You're putting an awful lot of thought into this," Takao mutters, rocking backwards to sit Indian-style on the futon. "Did you have a business meeting with him while you were undercover or something, or is this something you've been mulling over for awhile?"

 

“He hasn’t mentioned it,” Midorima admits, shifting sideways to lay his head on Takao’s lap. This has _not_ been a good day for Cancers. “It’s merely common sense for anyone familiar with his family, and families like his. He blames himself for his father’s death, of course. Apparently they were arguing when it happened.”

 

Takao curses underneath his breath, and gives Midorima's shoulder a little pop for his trouble. "Shin-chan, you could have texted me a brief of all this! I would have been _so_ much nicer and cooler, damn. That's _rough_ , there's no way he's okay, no one would be!"

 

He glances up when a quiet knock comes from the bedroom door. "…You want to get that, or do you want me to take over?" he lowly asks.

 

Midorima sits quickly, standing without saying a word. It might be a servant, of course, which would make this night much less stressful. Then again...

 

He opens the door, unsurprised to see a blurry red head. “Akashi. Are you...is everything in your room...”

 

"I'm sorry," Akashi prefaces just before lurching forward, his face thunking into Midorima's chest, one hand clinging blindly at his yukata. "I know--I know you don't like being touched, but I can't be alone right now." 

 

 _Can't_ is a lot different than _don't want to be_ , and Takao hears the difference loud and clear. Hah, wow, the Generation of Miracles is something else, at least twenty headaches per person, he'd guess. Midorima worries him--less regularly now--but Midorima has never said anything that's honestly _scared_ him. "It's cool, Shin-chan," he quietly calls over. "Just bring him in here, okay?" 

 

Midorima turns his head in the vague direction of where Takao is, and mouths, _Thank You_. He wraps an arm around Akashi’s shoulders--awkward, he’s sorry, he’s always awkward with this kind of thing--and steers him to the futon, between him and Takao. “I, ah, I know you two don’t know each other very well,” he says, trying not to stumble over the words. “If...Akashi, if it needs to be just us, let me know, I’m certain he’ll understand.” _Won’t you?_

 

Takao flaps a hand, the illusion of casual as much as he can paint right now. "It's fine, right? Heh, if you need cuddle time with Shin-chan, I get it, he's really comfortable to--"

 

"You don't have to go." 

 

Akashi's stare is intense on any given day, but when it's unfocused, glazed and with his pupils that dilated, it's just _freaky_ , like a weird cat trying to track a ghost that no one else sees, and Takao draws in a steadying breath. "Okay. Cool. Then I'm not going anywhere." 

 

Takao shifts, briefly looking at Midorima--then deciding, fuck it, it's not like Midorima's got anything up his sleeve to make this better. This is on _him_. "What makes it shut up?" he asks point blank. "Your head, I mean. You and Shin-chan, you're a lot similar, I get it." 

 

It's disappointing when he can't get Akashi to look at him right away, but whatever, baby steps. He's _like_ Shin-chan, but he's not Shin-chan, gotta remember that, and nothing reminds him of that more than Akashi's quiet answer of: "Nothing here." 

 

“You said earlier,” Midorima says quietly. This...this is terrifying. He wants to reach for his glasses, because _someone_ should be in control here, but this is the kind of thing he’s worse at than any other, and Takao is _fantastic_. At least, he always has been when it’s been Midorima in the same situation, or something similar.

 

True, the idea of Takao and Akashi both in the same room is enough to make Midorima want to grind his teeth, and the idea of the kind of thing that usually _helps_ in this situation is enough to give him hives...sort of.

 

He reaches out, tentatively carding his fingers through Akashi’s hair, looking half-panicked in Takao’s direction. “He’s like me. The same thing. He said. Earlier.” What are words?

 

 _Use your words, Shin-chan_. "Um…wait." It suddenly dawns on him. Damn, he's off his game tonight. "Are we talking about sex?" 

 

Akashi jerks at the touch to his hair, but it's far more from surprise than to brush Midorima off, considering a second later, he butts his head gratefully into Midorima's hand. Takao opens his mouth to comment, then shuts it again, because…huh, well, he could hate the sight of that more…

 

Well, past issues aside, having a pair of hot, fucked up rich kids in bed with him at the same time almost sounds normal. Takao heaves a sigh. "All right," he says, shrugging. "I'm down."

 

"…I'm not asking you to--"

 

"'Nothing here' means you weren't going to try in climb into anyone's lap, I already got that, and I appreciate it," Takao seamlessly interrupts. "I get it, we're not Kagami, or what's his face, that sexual harassment guy from your team. But…this doesn't have to be a big deal, it's just to feel good. Right, Shin-chan?" 

 

Midorima’s mouth goes dry. This feels a lot like a trap--but by whom, and for what reason, are questions he isn’t sure he can properly answer. It’s possible, just slightly possible, that this _isn’t_ a trap, and this is all in motion for a reason--and that reason isn’t even horrible. It doesn’t sound right to him, not with the way the rest of his life has gone, but just maybe...

 

He looks at Takao, suddenly vulnerable, nervous. “This doesn’t...change anything. If it does, I don’t want to.” His fingers are still kneading into Akashi’s hair, but he can stop there, if he has to. Akashi is warm and surprisingly soft in his arms, but he can stop, easily. Unhealthy middle school crushes don’t always need to be carried out to their fullest extent in life; he’s learned at least that much by now.

 

"Shin-chan, it's not going to change anything," Takao gently replies, scooting closer. Shit, why is _he_ the one being so chill about this? He _knows_ the history here, knows the issues, should be jealous and twitchy about it…but, oh, wait, it's because _he's_ the chill one. Midorima's the permanently OCD nervous wreck, and Akashi's the high-strung, overachiever that just had his dad die. No pressure. 

 

"Sex," he firmly says, grabbing Akashi's hand and neatly tugging him into Midorima's lap, "doesn't mean relationships. It's just sex, even if it's fun. And this is going to be fun, and easy, and feel good. That's it." 

 

"…I apologize for every rude thing I've ever said about you," Akashi mutters, huddling back into Midorima's chest, and Takao barks out a laugh at that. _This_ , he notes with satisfaction, _is progress_. It's not perfect yet, but at least Akashi isn't staring out into space and clearly seeing some weird, trippy ghosts. 

 

"It's cool. I've said some pretty nasty stuff about you, too, I bet," Takao cheerfully admits, and lurches forward, stealing a kiss from Midorima's lips. "Let bygones be bygones, all of that. Shin-chan, see? We're all playing nice, kiss me." 

 

There’s a moment of terror that shakes Midorima to the bone. No one has ever seen him kiss Takao. If he had his way, when asked any day of the year, any day of his _life_ , he’d say he wanted it to remain that way until he was in his grave. Private things are private for a reason, and this is the most private, most intimate thing he can imagine...

 

...which he is now doing in front of Akashi Seijuurou.

 

And the sky is not falling.

 

Midorima sucks in a breath, then clings to Takao with one hand in his hair, kissing him again, sucking a full lip between his teeth to suck on it for a while, breaking away eventually and seeing a gossamer strand connecting their lips for a brief moment. 

 

Then he turns, and ah, it isn’t as if he’s never imagined this. Slowly, carefully, he grabs for his glasses, sliding them onto his eyes so he doesn’t miss anything as he traces the thumb of his right hand over Akashi’s slightly-parted lips. “Is this...”

 

Akashi shifts in Midorima's lap, grasping hungrily at his wrist. It's like flipping a switch--a drastic enough one that Takao has to sit back, licking at his own lower lip when he watches Akashi nip gently at Midorima's thumb before sucking it into his mouth with a wet, slick sound. 

 

"That's not fucking lewd or anything, christ," Takao mutters underneath his breath, wiping hurriedly at a corner of his mouth. So sue him, he's basic, and while he's _pretty sure_ that he's 99% into girls…nnnnnnah, never mind, maybe 98%. Kicking off his sweatpants in favor of boxers is advisable now, yeah. "Did you two--um, in middle school…you know what, never mind, just keep going." 

 

Watching Akashi go at Midorima's hand makes him feel a little bit better about his own regular desire to suck on those long, perfect fingers, especially when Akashi is paying them such worshipful attention. Akashi has a pretty mouth ( _absolutely_ like a girl's, so maybe it's still 99%!), especially when his lips are sticky and a little swollen when they wrap around a long finger to suck and gently nip. 

 

“We didn’t. In middle school.” Midorima’s breath is a little fast now, a little labored, but he can at least make something like a full sentence, if he tries hard. That’s important. Maybe.

 

More important now is brushing bandaged fingers through Akashi’s hair, then leaning down to brush his lips over those (forbidden) soft ones, only for a second, as if he’s afraid to make it last longer. He draws in a shaky breath, then asks quietly, “Takao. Make the play. Tell me...tell us what to do.”

 

The possibilities are _endless_ , really, and Takao's mind spins, a few choice images going _straight_ to his dick. "Heh. Shit," he breathlessly laughs, tearing his eyes away for a second. "You know, it's probably better that you two didn't do anything in middle school, you look really hot together--" 

 

Akashi's the one that moves first, lurching up, grabbing at the front of Midorima's yukata and yanking him down for a harder, deeper kiss, and right, yep, there are definitely two bossy point guards in this room right now, aren't there? "Easy, easy," Takao hurriedly butts in, and he reaches over to pull Akashi back from eating Midorima alive (which seems _pretty_ likely, judging by how his tongue was down Midorima's throat). "Shin-chan's a little delicate--"

 

The stare that sweeps up to meet his own is hot and dark and brilliantly blood red, minus that fuzzy incoherence of earlier by far. "No, he's not," is Akashi's matter-of-fact reply. "I want him to fuck me." 

 

"…Shin-chan, anything you absolutely hate the idea of?" Takao's voice is slightly higher pitched, and he might be on the verge of giving in. No, there's no might. He is, because he's already got a hand wrapped up in Midorima's yukata, too, and his mouth fastens hot and wet onto the side of that pale throat. "You can't tell me you've never gotten off to the idea of doing your biggest rival through the mattress," he whispers low and hot into Midorima's ear. " _Especially_ if I'm fucking you at the same time." 

 

That last sentence emblazons itself in Midorima’s brain in one fiery instant, and he nearly blacks out from the idea, from the _lewdness_ of hearing it while someone else is in the room. He looks down at Akashi’s eyes, and sees them startlingly clear of confusion, of madness. “I just don’t want you to remember this as a bad decision,” he mutters in response to an unasked question, then shoves Akashi down to the bed, straddling that pale form. 

 

He knows he’s tall, and uses that to his advantage, towering over Akashi in the low light. “This is what you want,” he declares, pushing his glasses up onto his nose even as he lets the yukata fall down his shoulders, grabbing for Takao’s hand for reassurance. _And I’ll finally be beating you at something, even if you don’t see it that way._

 

Akashi's chest heaves as he nods, one pale hand reaching and grabbing up into Midorima's hair, hauling him down to kiss him _uninterrupted_ this time. Midorima is blessedly _heavy_ and surprisingly warm to the touch like this, not like the cold, awkward clamminess that Akashi vividly remembers his right hand always being in middle school. 

 

 _Fuck_ middle school. As if they'd get to kiss like this in middle school, with his teeth probably too much in the equation and his tongue not that apologetic in soothing where he nips. Akashi's back arches and his hips roll up, his other hand grabbing at the already loosened obi of Midorima's yukata, yanking it entirely undone. 

 

Takao does what he thinks is _very_ logical right now--he shoves Midorima's hand down between his own legs, past the waist band of his boxers to curl around his cock. " _This_ is just from watching you two," he groans, mouthing wet, hot kisses over one of Midorima's bared shoulders. "Fuck, Shin-chan, you're sexy when you're shoving someone around, it makes me really wanna fuck you." 

 

“Give me that,” Midorima says without thinking, grabbing at Takao’s cock with a glazed, hungry look. His lips are parted, breath stuttering as he slides his fingers around the familiar shaft, pulling it closer with a groan. He looks down at Akashi, and pants out a few breaths, bracing himself on the bed as he grinds slowly down. 

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he murmurs, and rubs a thigh up between Akashi’s, feeling the hard heat of him pressing up. “You’re jealous. That it wasn’t like this, just you and me.” It couldn’t have been. He didn’t have Takao yet.

 

"Would've been easier," Akashi breathlessly admits, his eyes fluttering hard as he squirms to dig his heels into the bed and better arch and grind down into the thigh between his legs. Fumbling with the buttons of his own shirt has never been more difficult than right now--he's still not entirely processing, mostly feels like a bundle of tingling nerves, but it's still something _so_ much better than before, especially when he finally gets his shirt off and pushes himself up to grab Midorima for another kiss. Everything about those kisses makes his mind _shut up_ a little bit more, and feeling the twitchy shivers that go through Midorima's muscles every time Akashi sucks on his tongue is something to relish. "It's fine," he huffs out against Midorima's mouth, "you can win this time." 

 

 _Hot like my hot lesbian porn, hooly shit_ , Takao dazedly notes, groaning into Midorima's shoulder and biting down when those perfect fingers squeeze and pull at his dick. "Shiiiin-chan," he breathes, shoving a hand between them, yanking open Akashi's belt with a deft hand. "You're being _so_ rude. If you want to fuck him, you've got to get him ready properly--or are you gonna make me do all the work there, too?" 

 

“You’re better at it,” Midorima breathes. He thumps on the wall next to the futon, seemingly inexplicably, and a small camouflaged drawer slides open out of a seemingly blank wall. He picks out lube and a condom from the hundreds stacked, sorted, and organized there, then a handful more for luck before clicking it back into hiding. “Do you want one for your fingers?” _He_ always does, that’s for certain, even if Akashi is one of the cleanest people he personally knows--but he hadn’t known that this was going to happen, so how could he have properly--

 

Brain is working too hard. Midorima grabs for Akashi’s cock instead, sighing when that distracts him enough, only then appreciating the hard flesh in his hand. “God, it’s thick.”

 

"I've got it, don't worry about it," Takao dismisses, leaving out technicalities when Midorima's mind doesn't need to focus on _any_ of that, not right now. "Shin-chan, you're such a dick hound," he teases instead, eyes lidding when he watches Akashi gasp and arch up into Midorima's hold, grabbing at his arm to presumably still his touch. 

 

"Don't--not too much of that," Akashi mumbles, his cock twitching in Midorima's grasp, dripping over his fingers, and Takao bites back a whimper and silently prays to the ceiling as he yanks the last vestiges of Akashi's clothing off. _Cute!_ Both of them, _really_ cute!

 

"Come here, _Sei-chan_ ," Takao mutters, not missing the way that makes Akashi flush hot--or maybe it's just the way Takao grabs the loonybin by the hips and hauls him over, legs splayed to either side of his lap. "Shin-chan, show him how nice _your_ dick is," he casually suggests, snatching up the lube and slicking up his fingers. "You've already had his tongue down your throat, make him put it on your--shit, you're _easy_ ," is the distracted, throaty groan that Takao can't keep back when he works two fingers in _easily_ , and Akashi writhes on his hand like it's _nothing_. Oh, god bless. Not that he doesn't find Midorima's, uh, idiosyncrasies cute as hell, but if he'd had _two_ princesses in bed at the same time…

 

Midorima finishes untying his obi, then sheds his yukata with a final shrug, tossing it to land on the floor, remembering full well what Takao had said last time about excessive folding not being sexy. He edges up, kneeling to the side of Akashi’s head, spreading his knees as one hand drops down to brush Akashi’s cheek. A fierce sense of pride, competition, _rivalry_ shoots through him, and far from the gentle thing he’d intended, he rubs his cock over Akashi’s lips without asking, biting his own lip as he does. “Open your mouth,” he says, voice eager and low. “You--you don’t do this a lot, do you, Akashi? Ah, Takao, how is he at that end?”

 

"Fucking _easy_." Takao had _meant it_ as a tease, but it comes out a little rough around the edges, oops. So sue him, there's a lot to like about normally dignified, composed Akashi Seijuurou riding down onto three of his fingers now like he's made for it. Takao's other hand digs into one lean hip, holding Akashi _still_ , and making it a hell of a lot easier to press his fingers in as deep as he likes, curling and stroking. "Luckyyy…Shin-chan's got a big dick," he murmurs, glancing up through his lashes to watch Akashi gulp and shudder, lips parting far from on their own accord. 

 

Reflex makes Akashi inhale sharply through his nose at the first dripping, sticky rub of Midorima's cock against his lips, and he clenches a hand into the bed before twisting partially to the side to better get his lips wrapped around the tip of Midorima's cock. The first swipe of his tongue is messy, uncoordinated courtesy of the way Takao's fingers shove in and make him feel weak and trembly, but the next is better--a long, solid lap up the underside before he sucks on the head with a breathy, needy sound.

 

Midorima shuts his eyes tightly, doing square roots in his head to get back some semblance of mental stamina when Akashi is lapping at his cock as if it’s the only thing saving his life. “He loves it,” he breathes, talking only to Takao, staring down at Akashi. 

 

A nagging voice keeps telling him that they should both be being more gentle with Akashi, now in his most trying time--but the far larger part of him is greedy for this, thirsty to see Akashi defeated and on his back, sucking cock and begging for more. A good part of him would think that he realized this is what Akashi truly needs instead of pity. The truth would be that Midorima enjoys seeing him like this too much to especially care, or so he tells himself. “Takao. Should I finish here? It--ah, it won’t be too long--”

 

"Uh uh, self-control, Shin-chan." 

 

It takes _effort_ not to keep this up, especially when he can feel every hot twitch of Akashi's body around his fingers and the way his thighs are starting to bunch and tremble. It also takes effort not to pull his hand out and just shove his own dick in. _I'm in high school, don't judge me!_

 

Takao bites his lip, staring back up at the ceiling for a second before he pulls his hand free, and gives the base of his own cock a firm squeeze. "Shin-chan--you'll like finishing this way a lot more, I promise." 

 

Which is about when Takao grabs at Akashi again, ignoring the huffy squawk of protest for his trouble when Takao flips him over, shoving him face down into the bed. "Nice, yeah? Come here, let me put the condom on you." 

 

Akashi shoves himself up onto an elbow. "I'd _rather_ \--"

 

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Takao breezily says, neatly pushing him back down and trailing a finger down Akashi's spine, chasing a droplet of sweat. "Pretty sure grinding your face down into a futon is the highest level of winning. Correct me if I'm wrong, Shin-chan?" 

 

“No.” The voice doesn’t sound like his own, even if Midorima can feel his lips moving. He shifts into position, kneeling behind Akashi, leaning back to let Takao work his magic with those perfect hands. “You aren’t wrong and you know it.”

 

The second the condom is on his cock, he leans down, fisting a hand in Akashi’s hair with a fire he hadn’t known was waiting inside him. “If I’m always on top, does that mean I’m always right, Akashi?” he asks bitingly. Even with those words, he isn’t cruel when he presses in, biting down on Akashi’s shoulder as his hips flex, burying his cock in one unstoppable push. “A-ah...you weren’t wrong, Kazu...he’s not nearly as tight as you...”

 

_Things that I didn't know would do it for me, part 15,000 for this night: Shin-chan topping the shit out of another guy._

 

Midorima's _not_ gentle, and that's fucking hot. Another part of it is watching Akashi's reactions, the way he gasps and groans, the helpless scrabble of his hands against the futon, and--"Shit, he's squeaky when he's got a real dick in him," Takao helplessly mutters, fumbling for another condom before he loses his fucking mind. "So cute." 

 

"D-don't--talk about me like I'm not _right here_ \--" Midorima's cock felt big in his mouth, feels even bigger in his ass, and with the way his breath keeps catching, it feels like even more with every clench and shiver. Akashi groans as he sags down, the hand in his hair making it nigh impossible to _really_ relax when he's pulled back like that, and--"fuck," is the weak, breathless little huff that escapes when Akashi wriggles back, just enough, feeling that slick, hot grind of skin against skin, and comes with a hard shudder, twitching and trembling around Midorima's cock. 

 

"…For real?" Takao manages, half-laughing as he settles down behind Midorima, mouthing a few hot kisses to the backs of his shoulders. "God. _Lucky_ , Shin-chan, now he'll be even easier for you to fuck," he rasps, letting his cock slide hot and hard and slick with lube against the cleft of Midorima's ass. "While I make it _so_ good for _you_." 

 

Midorima spreads his legs hurriedly, not wanting to prolong the time before Takao is _in him_ \--god, everything is better when Takao is in him. He rolls his hips, keeping a steady pace so Takao can work his magic. It always feels like magic, like something too good to possibly be real, every time. 

 

His posture changes when he feels the slick slide of Takao’s cock, spine arching, thighs parting, head dropping down to rest on Akashi’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” he pleads close to Akashi’s ear, hands dropping from Akashi’s hips to spread on the bedding, clenching in the futon. “A-ah, Kazu, please--you know what I need--”

 

"Yeah, I've got you, just relax for me, just like that, Shin-chan--" 

 

It's that first push inside that's always too much, Takao knows, but no amount of gentling or being careful ever makes it easier, so it's easier on both of them just to get it _done_. It makes Takao grit his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut that slick, _tight_ heat when he shoves in, and fuck, _fuck_ , he's not sure if he's clawing a hand into Midorima's hip, Akashi's thigh, or _what_. 

 

" _God_ , Shin-chan," Takao breathlessly laughs when he's sure he can _talk_ without coming immediately, his teeth scraping at the top of Midorima's spine, his hands splaying around his waist, pulling and adjusting until he's got Midorima just where he wants him. Now, _this_ is some real fun. Every easy, languid roll of his hips gets his cock in Midorima nice and deep, and shoves his boyfriend forward, too, making it a lot easier to set a rhythm that's got Akashi clawing holes into the futon-- _probably_ a little too overstimulated, but good for him, come five more times in a row and _then_ (maybe) they'll stop.

 

“More,” Midorima breathes. It usually takes him much longer than this to relax, but maybe having his cock buried in Akashi Seijuurou’s ass helps him focus, helps him be _better_ at this. Either way, Takao’s cock is sinful inside of him, hard and aching, spreading him open as he grinds helplessly back, unable to do anything but move with the rhythm Takao sets inside his body, rocking deep into Akashi. 

 

“Y-you can feel him like this, can’t you,” he asks, biting into Akashi’s shoulder just the way Takao likes. “A-ah, he’s in me, I’m in you, it’s _filthy_ , isn’t it?”

 

Akashi _thinks_ about rasping an answer out, but only vaguely. It takes a lot more focus to even keep his knees planted into the bed for some form of leverage, to keep from making every noise that his throat wants to squeeze out, and that, too, quickly becomes impossible when one of Takao's hand paws around and drags roughly over his cock, clearly just to see how hard he is again (the answer: _very)._

 

"Both of you," Takao mutters in between planting hot, sucking kisses down Midorima's back, "are a hot mess. Nnn, but Shin-channn, I could get used to how easy _you_ are like this," he breathes, lurching up to snap his teeth against Midorima's neck when he shoves in hard and deep. A ragged rush of breath leaves his lungs, and Takao glances down, gnawing on his lower lip when he gets a glimpse at where they're connected. "Does it feel that good, fucking him? You're acting like you could take two of me, that's _so_ slutty, Shin-chan…" 

 

“Oh, god,” Midorima whispers. His head lolls back, entire body feeling boneless and pinprick-sensitive as he shoves back, forgetting about Akashi, forgetting about everything but that perfect cock driving deep into him, spreading him wide open, grinding against something deep inside him that makes him pant, squirm, _writhe_ back. “J-just want _you_ in me,” he manages, and the world goes blurry when his glasses slip from his face, landing Oha Asa only knows where as he comes harder than he ever remembers in his life, with a broken, desperate whine.

 

If Midorima considers this a win, then Takao considers this a fucking _championship_. 

 

It's all the way that Midorima _gives in_ , completely loses himself in grinding back on his cock, and Takao obliges him through his orgasm, shoving in deep, holding there as much as he can stand it, helping Midorima ride out every single aching, twitching wave of it. "You've got me, Shin-chan," he groans, his head thunking against the back of Midorima's shoulder. "Just--f-fuck, sorry, you feel _so_ good." 

 

He's fucking human, and that's why it can't be helped that he's less than gentle about coming, bent over Midorima's back, biting at whatever part of him he can sink his teeth into. Takao knows he's _also_ not gentle about the way his fingers paw their way around at Akashi's cock, merciless about how intent he is about getting him to come _again--_ which is not difficult, god bless. Even still, Takao can feel that last bit of tension dissolve out from under them, hear Akashi's half-muffled groans and whines into the futon, and most importantly, feel that slick, sticky drip over his fingers. 

 

"Humor me," Takao half-rasps, dragging his hand away and up to Midorima's lips. His fingers are sticky and trembling, but no less insistent. "C'mon, Shin-chan." 

 

Midorima’s hand is surprisingly steady, hard like steel when he reaches out and grabs Akashi’s face, turning it to force him to watch as he parts his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he drags his tongue over the mess Akashi’s made of Takao’s hand. This is the kind of thing he can only do when he’s drunk or fucked out, and he feels a little bit of both. “Tas’ good,” he slurs, aware he’s drooling, but he can’t see it, so it doesn’t matter. “T-Takao...my mouth, I want you in my mouth.” Akashi, for some reason, doesn’t seem to understand how they can go through as many condoms as they can, as quickly as they do. He’s about to find out.

 

"Y-yeah, okay," Takao manages, still letting himself be pleasantly, languidly glazed, and all the more so when Midorima's lapping Akashi's come off of his fingers. _Where is the fucking camera when I need it,_ he wildly thinks. "I came really hard, Shin-chan, so you're gonna have to work to get me going again, okay?"

 

Akashi, for his part, only manages a weak, grumpy protest when Takao drags his hand away from Midorima's mouth. _That_ was nice to watch, even if he's currently dazed, half on his way to blissfully unconscious, and fortunately, Takao's the one to notice. 

 

"Shin-chan, I think you reeeeally won." A careful shifting of limbs and bodies follows that--the first tied-off condom hitting the nearby trash can, followed by the second, and Akashi already starts to curl up, grabbing most, if not all of the blankets and huddling in them more or less contently. "Look, after-sex hibernation. He seems fine like that, make out with me and you can _totally_ suck me off." 

 

Midorima glares blurrily at Akashi, then shrugs. Takao is perfect, and where he wants to end the evening in any case. “You drive a hard, but fair bargain.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**To: Taiga**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: yo**

**are you around i need to talk to someone**

 

Himuro considers Skype when the first text he sends to Kagami doesn't get a response. 

 

He fucking hates that. Skype requires going back into Mibuchi's house (read: mansion, _why_ does he keep dating insanely rich boys?), where he can't smoke, can't pace, can't even look Mibuchi in the eye right now, not when he's trying _very hard_ to be cool and calm and the kind of boyfriend that he'd said he was on the tin. 

 

The back porch of Mibuchi's house looks like something out of a period film, complete with gardens, both plant-based and rock-based, because his family is _that_ kind of pretentious rich. Himuro hopes that smoking out here, alone and cold and frustrated to the point of tears, kills a few plants. 

 

He also prays to whatever god does exist that Mibuchi doesn't walk outside to see him like this, because when he'd left (presumably, to give Mibuchi his space with half a dozen frantic phone calls and _finding out about Sei-chan,_ because ha, yeah, he's cool with that!!!!), he hadn't been this much of a hot mess. 

 

**To: Taiga**

**From: Himuro Tatsuya**

**Subject: fucking CALL ME**

 

The phone rings, and Kagami hopes it sounds as begrudging as he feels when he shuts his eyes, flopping over onto his stomach to mutter, “What, _what_ is so important?” in a slurred, sleepy voice against the phone. “Tatsuya, you okay?”

 

"Fuck you and your shitty boyfriend." 

 

“Okay,” Kagami says, and yawns hugely. “Who is he? If you want me to set up a threesome, I need to know his name at--”

 

"Stop fucking around, you know who I'm talking about!" 

 

Himuro's voice cracks, and he stomps out his cigarette, his hand shaking as he slumps over the porch railing. "I'm glad you can be so fucking chill about this. I guess he didn't call you, either, huh? Why the fuck is everyone so crazy about him?"

 

Kagami glares at the clock, proudly proclaiming **2:19 AM** on his dresser, and finally hauls himself to a sitting position. He’s never heard Himuro’s voice like this, stressed and sad and nervous as hell. “Okay, whoa, back up. Who’s calling me? This is about Akashi? What’s going on with you?”

 

"I'm going to punch you," is the last, wet and teary response that Kagami gets for a few moments. Himuro fumbles desperately for another cigarette, gives up when he can't even light it properly and tries not to get even more upset over something that stupid. "Do you know how _cool_ of a boyfriend I try to be, Taiga? I'm cool with being out and gay in _Japan_ , that's how cool I am for this asshole, and do you know how quickly he runs back to your piece of shit ex all the same? Drop of a _fucking_ hat." 

 

Kagami’s heart sinks. They may have left it on good terms, and may not be currently _dating_ , per se, but the news that Akashi and Mibuchi are back together doesn’t exactly make him feel good about life. Especially because... “I’m sorry, man. Are they seriously a thing again? Wait, when the fuck did you come _out?_ ”

 

"Reo's on the fucking phone trying to get in touch with him and spoil him like a princess again I'm _assuming_ , even though I came all the way down to Kyoto for winter break and when I could have come to L.A. to see you!" 

 

Standing is _hard_ , and the wood railing is giving him splinters, and so Himuro slowly flops down, curling up with a knee to his chest. "I'm not out," he mumbles. "I'm just saying, I fucking would be, for him. Not that it fucking matters. Fuck your fucking boyfriend, I've tried to be so chill about him and Reo but I can't _do it_ , not when it's like this." 

 

He exhales a long, shuddering breath, and scrubs the back of his hand over his eyes. "I'm not being fair," he says, trying to logic out-loud to himself. "Reo's just worried about him, and he's got every right to be, but I don't like waking up to twenty dozen phone calls where he's trying to call every member of his fucking _cabinet_ to find him and a declaration about how I've 'just got to be put on the back burner, Sei-chan is so much more important and always will be the one!'" 

 

It is harder than Kagami ever thought anything would be not to demand to know why the _fuck_ Mibuchi is so concerned about Akashi. He opens his laptop, signing into Skype as he asks, “Did he seriously say that to you? Dude. What the fuck, you’re worth way more than that.”

 

"Am I?" Kagami is absolutely the _only one_ he gets like this around, and it's been a long, _long_ time since it last happened. "Show me some empirical evidence, no one gives a fuck about me. Just for _once_ , it would be nice to be someone's number one, you know? I can't even come close to that." 

 

“You don’t want me to do that, man.” There might be a tiny bitter tint to the words, but Kagami is pretty sure Himuro is angling towards them. “I just got up at two am to talk to your sorry ass, you know? Didn’t you use me being in love with you as _leverage_ like a year ago?”

 

"Fuck you, if Akashi called you right now and needed to talk to you, you'd fucking end this call and climb right back on his dick." Himuro's voice gets wetter by the moment, even as he adds, "Sorry. I'm--fuck, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make t-this about that. I'm just--I don't know." His breath hiccups. "Taiga, I really, really like him." 

 

“Well...yeah.” Kagami folds up his legs, frowning as he fails to get the slightest hit off of Skype, and taps his mouse a few times idly. “I’ve never seen you with a guy or girl like you are around him. Oi, is he being bad to you? I’ll knock him out--do you want me to call him? We were on a team together--I mean, he never shut up about you, he’s _definitely_ into you too...”

 

"How into me can he possibly be, _Sei-chan_ will always be number one." Himuro lists to the side, knocking his head slowly against the nearest piece of railing. "I just wanna die, I'm such a loser, I'm in his fucking back yard crying and he's making plans to go play babysitter." He sniffs hard, and wipes his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Your boyfriend is fucked up, _do_ something about him." 

 

“What the hell did he do, anyway?” Kagami snaps. “You’ve been dancing around this issue forever, so what’s up with him? Is he okay? Don’t _get_ like you _get_ , you’re the one who brought it up!”

 

Himuro falls silent for a moment, and he says, warily and quite calmly, "I seriously thought he would've called you by now. I just found out because it was finally on the news today, but, dude…apparently, his dad died last week." 

 

“....Huh.” Kagami slowly exhales, closing his eyes, head tipping back. He shuts his laptop after sending one quick message, and moves back to the bed. “Okay, I’ll deal with that later. Dude, you gotta talk to Reo-nee. Tell him he’s making you upset, he needs to take responsibility for that!”

 

"Sorry. I seriously thought you knew. Also, it's his fucking birthday tomorrow, make sure you get that call in on Japan time or you're a shitlord in boyfriend terms." He feels like he's a goddamn Akashi guidebook after hearing Mibuchi talk about him all the time, and it's infuriating as much as it is mind-numbing. Himuro shuts his eyes. "I can't talk to him about it. It makes me look like an asshole, I've been telling him forever that I'm fine with it being like this." 

 

“Bullshit you can’t.” Kagami scribbles a note to himself to call at 0:00 Japan time the next day. “A relationship is people, man. People change, grow, make mistakes, lie. Tell him you were an asshole before and you want him to stop stepping on you! You have to be blunt with Reo-nee, otherwise he takes it like a fruity Kyoto-speak passive aggression competition.”

 

"I can't do it in the middle of all of this, I…fuck," Himuro groans, wiping a hand down his face. "I know, when the hell have I not wanted to be a pain in the ass, but...I'm so dumb, Taiga, I've been trying to get him to tell me what college he's going to over here so I can fucking apply. Just shoot me." 

 

“ _Tatsuya_. If I was there, I’d slap you upside the head, and so would Alex,” Kagami says firmly. “ _Go_ to him, _tell_ him how you feel, and _tell_ him you’re worth more than second place--so he can either straighten up or find a new number two! Come on, be a man, Big Bro!”

 

 _And if I tell him that, what's he going to do, drop me like it's hot and leave it at that?_ "Y-yeah. Sure. I'll let you know what happens. Later, Taiga." 

 

Ending the call fucking sucks, because clinging to his phone is a solid line of defense if Himuro has ever had one. He considers smoking another cigarette, but it's too cold out to bother, even if Kyoto in winter is a _lot_ more hospitable than Akita. Maybe that's a good enough excuse for why his face is as red as it is, though. 

 

Trudging his way back inside feels like a walk of shame more than anything, but at least it's warm. _Regretting this already_ , Himuro bitterly thinks to himself, taking the stairs back up to Mibuchi's room. _He's probably still on the phone, fuck it._  

 

Mibuchi’s door stands open, enough to show the man himself with an open suitcase on his bed, packing shirt after shirt. He looks up when Himuro enters, and his face compresses briefly into something like regret. “Hey. Sorry about earlier. You feeling better?”

 

Seeing Mibuchi pack is worse, actually, and Himuro makes a valiant attempt to not flip his shit. "Not really," he says, throwing on a beatific smile. "Where are you off to? Find out what's going on?" 

 

“No, I finally got through to a member of his household staff who’d heard from him. He’s in Tokyo, with Midorima, so I’m going to go see if he needs anything.” He slams the suitcase shut, remembers a crucial pair of jeans, and opens it again. “I’m not planning on being gone long--less than a day, I think.”

 

"Cool. So that's why you're packing that much."

 

Mibuchi blinks, then looks down at the suitcase. “Ah. I didn’t even think, I just thought, _trip!_ and the next thing you know...hmm, well, no harm, no foul. You want to hit Tokyo, or wait here? I don’t even know if he’ll _see_ me.”

 

"Why are you even bothering, then?" Can of worms, opened. Fuck. No matter what Kagami had told him, Himuro's really not interested in this conversation, not right _now,_ when he's pretty sure it's going to end in him crying like a fucking idiot again because that's what he _does_ when he's this upset and frustrated. "Midorima's his best friend, let him stay there and get his shit together." 

 

Mibuchi snorts. “Please, that idiot couldn’t take care of a pet rock. I just want to make sure he isn’t...well, you know, crazy again.” He turns away from the useless suitcase, and starts picking out coats instead. “Blue, or black? I want to pop, of course, but for the _right_ reasons...”

 

"What are you gonna do if he is crazy again? Fuck him better?" 

 

Now he's just getting bitchy. Himuro gnaws on his lower lip, staring up at the ceiling. "Just let everyone else deal with him for five minutes. He's not your responsibility, you know." 

 

Mibuchi turns slowly, a startled, affronted look in his eyes. “Like hell he isn’t. Who else has his best interests at heart? Not those fake friends of his. I thought you understood how special he was to me, Tatsuya.”

 

"How fake can they be if they're letting him hang around at their house and be a lunatic? Yeah, you're right, he's probably nuts right now, and that Midorima guy is probably still putting up with it." And now for the part he really doesn't want to touch. Himuro doesn't know how to be nice about it, not when he's trying to keep calm, and _not_ get into a shouting match. "Reo. Really, I'm _so_ sick of hearing about how he's your number one." 

 

Mibuchi’s brow furrows delicately. He folds his arms, tilting his head to the side as he regards Himuro’s face, his posture. “You are? Whatever for?”

 

"…Because--" Fuck it, he can't do this. Kudos to all those girls and guys that have ever confessed to him, because they have more balls than he ever will. Himuro swallows, shrugging, and shoves his hands down into the pockets of his jeans. "Forget it. Never mind. Go to Tokyo, I'll just go back to Akita, I know you're going to be gone for the rest of break, so what's the fucking point." 

 

“All right, cool, you’re calling me a liar now,” Mibuchi says, tossing his jacket onto the bed and shutting the door firmly. “What the hell is this about? This isn’t like you. You’re not--are you _jealous_ of Sei-chan? _Now?_ Oh, that’s just precious.”

 

"Fuck off, it's not fucking cute to be condescending," Himuro snaps, keeping the waver out of his voice by sheer will alone. "I'm--you know, yeah, I'm jealous of him, but it's my own damned fault, so I can't even properly yell at you about it!" 

 

Mibuchi’s face creases at the eyes in something that would be hurt if he let it. Instead, he smoothes it down into something cooler, less vulnerable. “You’re the one who told me you didn’t date,” he says loftily. “That I’d be stupid to get my expectations up of you being a boyfriend.”

 

"You could have _asked_. You didn't even bother, you just took it at face value and went with it. It's cool, I get it, you've gotten your fill of someone that'll actually hold your hand in public, run back to the repressed prince that's got a fiancee. Romantic as hell." 

 

“Took _what_ at face value--your _word?_ ” Mibuchi demands, finding it harder and harder to keep a calm facade when every word is cutting him where he hates most. “No, we’re talking about this now, I guess.” He locks the door, then shoves Himuro against it, eyes gone dark. “You think you’re the enlightened, down-to-earth choice just _bursting_ with honesty, huh? The one who’ll hold my hand in public whenever I want? Is that really what you think it’s _like_ to date you?”

 

Himuro's hands curl into fists back against the door. "I get that I was an asshole about _dating_ before," he lowly says. "But it's pretty fucking hard to be honest with a guy that immediately tells me he's _always_ going to be into someone else more! Like, what the fuck, no matter what I did I was going to be an asshole."

 

“Please, spare me the theatrics.” Mibuchi opens his suitcase again, turning away to throw a few shirts aggressively inside. “I’m a fun way to spend time, I get that. But when a guy will hold your hand in front of his own parents but not yours? After being _invited_ to?” He sniffs, yanking a shirt out of his closet so hard his hanger snaps. “Have fun with your little rebellion making mommy and daddy unhappy, I’m actually _living_ this life. I don’t want another guy that can’t live without me, but can’t imagine a future where we’re fucking _happy_ together--if you’re all the same, what does it even matter?”

 

"Are you _serious?_ You know, it's fucking hot when you're a bossy asshat in bed, but acting like that in real life and like you didn't do a goddamn thing wrong is stupid," Himuro snaps, shoving away from the door. "Do you know how many guys have told me it's fine to do something like that, only to not be serious at all? And that's in L.A.! You're already a goddamn fruit loop half the time, Reo, how am I supposed to know when you actually mean something?" 

 

“Don’t pull that card with me,” Mibuchi snaps, slamming his suitcase shut, looking up at Himuro with eyes burning with the effort to keep back tears, even as his hands are white-knuckled on the suitcase. “When you’re the one who won’t even hold my hand in _Ni-Chome_ , and I’m the one featured in fucking Girl’s Talk columns for the third time this school year--you want everyone to think you’re _so_ edgy for being with a guy, but only on your terms, not when you might actually _get_ shit for it--not if it makes you _vulnerable_ , huh? It’s--fuck, I’m not crying, don’t you dare say I am--I’m not just interested in this for _fun_ , you know? This is my _life_ , my _future_ \--if I’m going to be alone for it-- _dammit_ \--” He grinds the heels of his hands against his eyes, furious with himself for being so appallingly clear about his feelings when he’s trying to be angry.

 

 _Great_ , well, he's a real fucking winner, isn't he? Seeing Mibuchi get upset and start crying is probably one of the worst things to happen in recent memory, right along the lines of Alex telling him that he's never going to be good enough to go pro or the last time his parents told him _no, you're not coming back to America, not until you straighten up, and even then._

 

"Fuck it," Himuro mutters underneath his breath, two long strides closing the distance between them. "Shit--shit, don't cry, Reo, fucking hell, I'd come out for you and make out for the front page of the newspaper with you," he says on a ragged laugh, grabbing at Mibuchi's hands to pull them away from his face. "It's--fuck, you know I suck at this, give me a little bit of slack when I suck at it and don't know what to do when you're still acting like you want Akashi Seijuurou to sweep you off your feet." His breath hiccups, and he looks away before his own waterworks can start again in full force. _Really_ not cool. "How the hell am I _ever_ supposed to compare to that?" 

 

Mibuchi lunges suddenly forward, grabbing Himuro’s hands and kissing him hard, clinging to him like a drowning man to a life raft, a kiss he’s never given Himuro before, never given anyone before. There’s no art, no subtlety, just a raw need and cutting sadness that makes him grab too-tightly, hot and wet and tasting of salt. 

 

Then he breaks it, before his entire soul can escape, and looks down at the ground with a wet little laugh. “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. You’re talking big again--I don’t even know if you mean it, or if you’re just jealous.”

 

"I'm really fucking jealous," Himuro admits breathlessly, and tries not to start sniffling like a five year old. He fails, of course, and gives up, grabbing clumsily at Mibuchi again to haul him closer and stuff his face down into his shoulder. "But I really, _really_ like you," he adds, his voice very wet and muffled. "I'd stay in Japan with you--I'm in Japan for your ass _right now_ , and you're trying to take off to Tokyo for another guy, fuck you." 

 

“You have to _tell_ me things like that,” Mibuchi pleads, sinking down to the bed, wiping his face on his sleeve. “I’m--Tatsuya, I’m not that good at this, all right? Sei-chan said he loved me, but he wouldn’t _ever_ be able to be with me. Then I found you, and you said you wouldn’t _ever_ want to date me. I’m--I’m really sorry, but I _hate_ getting my heart broken, okay?”

 

"It's not like you made it any less clear that you weren't reserved for _Sei-chan_ ," Himuro defensively mutters. "It's hard to t-tell you that I'd be into dating someone for once when that's hanging over my head."

 

He collapses onto the bed next to Mibuchi, wiping a hand back over his face and into his hair. "I thought I was being chill and cool about this, not fucking it up." 

 

Mibuchi halfheartedly whacks Himuro’s shoulder. “Dumb. You’re an idiot. Really stupid,” he says, and sniffs. “Who wants to date someone chill and cool? I d-don’t care if you’re cool. I just want you to...” He turns away, embarrassed now. “Shut up. I just want someone to like me best. I’m _really_ sick of being everyone’s second place.”

 

"Bullshit," Himuro mutters, immediately slinging an arm around Mibuchi and hauling him closer, even if he's not exactly okay with looking him in the eye right now. " _I_ never made you second place, just because you didn't get it doesn't mean you're allowed to act like a dumbass."

 

“Don’t look at me. I hate you, _ugh_.” Mibuchi stuffs his face in Himuro’s hair. “Th-this doesn’t mean I magically believe all the shit you say, you know. But, ugh, you’re going to make me do it first, aren’t you?”

 

"I dunno," Himuro says, his arm tightening around Mibuchi's waist. "Are you still taking off to Tokyo for the rest of winter break?" 

 

“I dunno. Do you want me to stay?” _Don’t fuck with me in passive aggressives and obfuscatory language, boy, this is my_ home _ground._

 

"Should be fucking obvious," Himuro mutters, shutting his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I want you to stay, but I'm trying _really_ hard not to be an unfair asshole right now. His dad fucking died." 

 

Mibuchi huffs out a sigh, making Himuro’s hair flutter around his head. “And he doesn’t need me. He has his best friend, and he has my number.” He draws back slightly, reaching for Himuro’s hand and squeezing it. “I’ll stay. But if he _calls_ , I’ll go, because he’s my friend and I’d do the same for any friend whose dad died.”

 

"…You have zero chill when it comes to him," Himuro wearily points out, squeezing Mibuchi's hand hard. "That's not friend stuff. Impossible, I know, but be straight with me for a second and tell me if you're ever going to drop him."

 

“Wait, wait. Are you telling me that if Taiga were in Tokyo right now,” Mibuchi says firmly, “and he had a huge traumatic death in the family, and called you and begged for your support, you wouldn’t even take a lousy three-hour shinkansen? Hell, _I’d_ do that for Taiga.”

 

"Don't be a fucking idiot. Obviously I'd do that, that's not what I'm talking about." Himuro rakes a hand back through his bangs in exasperation. "I'm talking about in _general_ , your _thing_ for this guy--or were you just being a dramatic lunatic to try and get a rise out of me? If that's the case, it worked, by the way." 

 

Mibuchi looks delicately away. “I...am not saying that isn’t _part_ of it,” he allows. “And...I don’t know. It’s sort of fun to be dramatically in love with a far-off prince, isn’t it? And he’ll always have a special place in my heart, but...Tatsu, I’m the one that broke it off with him, for my own good. I’m not taking that back, ever.”

 

Himuro starts to climb to his feet. "You're literally the worst person I know, bye." 

 

Mibuchi yanks him back down in a pile of limbs. “Oi, what’s that about? You’re the one who admitted he was trying to make _me_ jealous, what’s this suddenly?”

 

"I cried on the phone over your dumb gay crush on Akashi Seijuurou, I'm never going to be able to live that down!" 

 

Mibuchi pins him to the bed, now certain of his victory. “Worse still, you’re _dating_ me. I’m not letting you leave until you admit that, either!”

 

"…Does that mean if I don't admit it, I never have to leave?" Himuro archly replies. 

 

Mibuchi blinks, then grins. “We can find out,” he suggests and pins Himuro’s wrists over his head. “But how will we pass the time?”

 

"You've usually got something in mind," Himuro sighs, arching up to place a gentle bite to the line of Mibuchi's jaw. "Hey. Where are you going to college?" _I know you've already got it planned out, rich gay lunatics everywhere always do._

 

Mibuchi’s face is suddenly guarded. “Don’t laugh at me,” he warns. “I’m...hmm. Tell me where you’re going first.”

 

"…Um. Well. I don't know yet." 

 

“I...haven’t exactly chosen yet.” Mibuchi sits back, busily counting specks on the wall. “I mean, I’ve sent a couple applications. Kansai Gaiden, of course. Kyodai, Todai just in case, Akidai, Ritsumeikan...” Hopefully Himuro won’t listen too hard to the second to last one on that list.

 

"I'll punch you, don't go to Akidai, it's so cold," Himuro mutters, draping an arm over his face. "I'm not allowed _not_ to go to college, so…when you figure it out…"

 

“Don’t be an idiot!” Mibuchi hits Himuro with a pillow, only realizing too late that it’s a heavy, buckwheat-filled ergonomic pillow. “Oh, sorry! Ah, I’m just saying...we should decide together, if we’re going to be lame like that.”

 

"Why do Japanese girls have to be so _violent?_ " Himuro groans, twisting to the side and shielding his face with both arms. "No, fuck you, I don't want to go to school with you anymore."

 

“That’s the cuteness known as yandere,” Mibuchi informs him, and gives him another whack with the heavy pillow, for good measure. “Stop defending yourself and tell me your college plans like a man!”

 

"Bullshit, you're not yandere. You're some horrible tsundere subversion," Himuro mumbles, barely daring to peek out from behind his arms, pretty sure there's nothing about this that is safe. "You don't want to hear my plans."

 

“Tell me. I’ll kill you if you don’t tell me.” Mibuchi beams, and whacks Himuro again. “Yandere enough? I can get a butterknife from the kitchen.”

 

"Noooo _._ " Himuro slowly rotates, burying his face into the bed. "My plans are bad. I don't have any. I originally wanted to go back to school in the states, but I fucked that up because I decided it would be more prudent to visit my not-boyfriend in Kyoto over winter break." He's usually a much better planner than this. Usually. Not when boys are involved, _apparently_. 

 

Mibuchi huffs, and stuffs the pillow over Himuro’s head, keeping him down. “You’re an idiot. I’d have gone to the states with you. If you’d _asked_ ,” he adds, whacking his sides now. “Which you _didn’t_ , because you were too busy being _jealous_!”

 

"Bull _shit!_ Owww. You'd--ow--you wouldn't like it, you'd think it was dirty and it is, L.A. is shit but--oww. Abuse, _abuse_ , at least they have social services in the goddamn United States of America." 

 

“Good, they can protect you from me--and you’ll need it!” Mibuchi finally drops the pillow, collapsing back down to the bed next to Himuro. “You should take me to San Francisco. It looks pretty and we can get married there. Not that I’d have you.” _But I would._

 

"You'd like SanFran," Himuro begrudgingly allows, slowly unfolding himself from the little ball he's hunched up into. "My dad doesn't care what college I go to, so long as it's a real one and that I come out with a degree of some kind," he finally allows. "My grades are good, not great, but good enough that I can get into a lot of places. I don't know what I'm going to do once I get there, so it's kind of…stupid, trying to make my own plans about it. You're the one that actually cares." 

 

“Oh, yes,” Mibuchi says dryly. “Because it’s so difficult to find a college with an excellent classic literature program. Honestly, every college has at least two dusty old relics of professors tucked into a back office somewhere, waiting for an eager young old man in training to dig them out. If you want me to be happy, just pick somewhere beautiful. And _less_ cold.” Casually, he adds, “Kansai Gaiden has a very robust exchange program with America. We could do a year over there.”

 

"That would be all right. I'm telling you, you're _not_ gonna like America, though. I know your aesthetic by now, and if you want something pretty, it's not usually in a college town. Also," Himuro says dryly, plucking at the bed's comforter, "if you're looking to keep playing ball in college, let's skip the overseas thing entirely."

 

Mibuchi cocks his head. “Oh? Why’s that? You know something I don’t?”

 

"Yeah, like how your whole life would literally be nothing but basketball disappointments. It's an actual big deal over there, they start recruiting in high school for the best teams. We wouldn't even come close to making it, we're both too short." 

 

“But we’re _shooting guards_ ,” Mibuchi says with a huff. “That’s not about height. How absurd.”

 

"We're short and we're Asian," Himuro gloomily says. "Immediately cut. You're tall enough for high school ball, but me? Not a chance." 

 

“America is stupid,” Mibuchi says definitively. “Let’s stay in Japan. We’re good enough for the JBL, at least.” He pauses, then says, “You know, a lot of people have talked about how Kagami would have become one of the Miracles if he’d been here. You’d have been one of us. I’m not sure if anyone’s told you that.”

 

"Oh, yeah, all the time. I love hearing that. It's definitely my favorite thing to be reminded that I'm Version 1.0: Good, but Not _Great._ " 

 

“Welcome to the club, sweetheart. At least you get a cool nickname!”

 

"Fuck off, I didn't even get a nickname." 

 

“You know it would be something like _Iceman_ , are you sure you really want that?”

 

"I'll kill you. I'll actually kill you."

 

“Death--by _ice_. That would be your new move!”

 

Himuro rolls over, grabbing a pillow ( _not_ the buckwheat one, he's kinder than that) and smashing it down into Mibuchi's face. "Shhhhh."

 

Mibuchi yells something into the pillow. It’s muffled, but sounds like, “The Iceman Murdereth!”

 

"Die." Himuro shifts to sit on his chest, hoping that Mibuchi will really suffocate like this. Unlikely, he's skinny. "Just die. I'm never marrying you. Coincidentally, did you hear about Shibuya?" 

 

“Coincidentally,” Mibuchi wheezes, “I did. And I’d never take a low class boyfriend like you there unless he was serious.” That probably could have sounded meaner. He’s slipping.

 

"Yeah, don't take me there. Don't take anyone there, I'm sure the rush of gays is way too much right now." Himuro drums his fingers against Mibuchi's chest. "On a scale of 1 to 10, how much do your parents _really_ care." 

 

Mibuchi quirks his mouth. “Do you know why I started playing sports in the first place, my dear?” 

 

He sits up, pulling a small photo album off his shelf and flipping to a page early on, of a young Reo, six or seven years old, dressed as a geisha in full makeup, next to his smiling mother. “Mother thinks it’s very sweet that I ‘turned out to be a girl’ after she wanted one so badly. Father thinks I should chop it off and be done with it. I wanted to prove to them that I’m still, well, whatever I want to be. You know? I think they’re confused, but they don’t really care all that much.”

 

"At least you make a pretty girl," Himuro wryly offers up, settling to sit between Mibuchi's thighs. "At the risk of sounding _so_ politically incorrect, though, I'd miss your dick if you cut it off, so at least run it by me if you're thinking about that." 

 

“Not really an issue,” Mibuchi says airily, draping his arms around Himuro’s shoulders. “But I can’t say the thought has never crossed my mind. Hmm, but I’ve never wanted badly enough to go through with it to actually...well. I don’t have that personal compelling force. If there were a reason--say, if I were truly in love with a man, and the only way we could be together is to get legally married, I’d probably do it. But I don’t hate my male body, as it were, and I’m quite comfortable in this home.”

 

"Cool, I'm still keeping your name as 'Girlfriend' in my phone." Himuro leans to the side, letting his head thunk into Mibuchi's shoulder. "My parents think I'm faking the gay thing for shock value. Which, whatever, fuck them. Just because they've seen me kissing girls a few times doesn't mean I don't like guys, too, and--" He hesitates before adding, obviously annoyed to admit it, "You can _look_ like a fag in L.A. all you want, but if you're going to play street ball, or hang around guys that do, if you don't at least try to pick up girls, you're going to get your ass kicked. America, the land of double standards." 

 

“The land of pride parades and anti-discrimination laws--and being beaten up in the street, hmm?” Mibuchi asks archly. “Whereas here, we’re invisible and shunned, but not attacked. Pick your poison, really.”

 

"Yeah, I wouldn't bet on you in a fight, so I'm gonna go with you staying invisible and shunned for now."

 

“What a fantastic choice.” Mibuchi laughs, and slings an arm around Himuro’s waist, pulling him close. “If we go to America, at least I have this street-smart scrapper with me. Would you punch a man for me, baby?”

 

"I've already nearly punched guys just because you exist and I don't know what to do with myself," Himuro sweetly replies.

 

“Punching _me_ doesn’t count, asshole. You should be spoiling me more,” Mibuchi objects. “I’m _really_ pretty.”

 

"Yes, yes. You're really pretty. What do pretty guys like these days, blowjobs?" 

 

Mibuchi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. “Yes. Pretty guys these days do, in fact, like blowjobs.”

 

"I brought my tongue jewelry this time." 

 

“Remember when I forgave you for everything?”

 

"If I get a second one, does that make my tongue kinda ribbed for your pleasure or something?" 

 

“Get it right, every part of you is already for my pleasure.”

 

~

 

Against Midorima's advice, Takao cheerfully steals Akashi's phone. 

 

"He's got like, what, an army of ex-boyfriends, right?" Takao insists, using his own iPhone charger to pump life back into Akashi's phone, neglected for a solid week now while he curls up, vaguely comatose, on a spare futon in the corner of Midorima's room. "There's got to be someone we can call."

 

It turns out, the Akashi business syndicate doesn't give a damn about their tiny new overlord so long as he's still alive--which they confirmed the day after he ran away from the hospital, and left it at that. Takao can't say that doesn't make him feel weirdly sad, because someone should be checking on a kid whose last close living relative died beyond the parents of some other meika household. Midorima's parents don't even count that much, he's pretty sure--they've got _plans,_ he hears them whispering about it every single time he comes over during winter break, and Midorima's sister gets pushed into serving them tea more and more often. 

 

Akashi's phone buzzes to life, and Takao plops down with it, distractedly shoving Sagittarius's lucky item for the day (which is an _enormous_ unicorn plush) back on top of the lump that is Akashi Seijuurou. Dismissing the dozens of missed calls and scheduled alerts is the first step before he flips to the long list of neatly organized contacts. Murasakibara is right out. He's in France, how can he afford to give a damn? Mibuchi…the idea of calling him gives Takao war flashbacks, and he wavers, hesitating on the call button, because at least he's in Kyoto and _would_ come, but…

 

Instinct leads him to keep flipping past that, and finally, filed with an asterisk in Akashi's phone is Kagami's new, presumably international number. 

 

"Fuck it, I'd want him to tell me," Takao mutters, pressing call. 

 

**[Calling - Akashi Seijuurou]**

 

Kagami drops the duffel bag slung over his shoulder onto the concrete, staring at the name. He almost hangs up--wouldn’t it be better to have the conversation tomorrow?--but then again, what he hears on this call might affect the next day pretty drastically. 

 

“Seijuurou, are you okay?” he asks, hitting _Accept_ after about ten seconds of pause.

 

Takao winces. Yeah, probably the last thing he'd want to hear if someone called him from Midorima's phone was _not Midorima's voice_ , but… "Yo, Kagami. It's Takao, sorry to get in touch with you like this. You got a minute, man?" 

 

Kagami’s breath catches in what can only be called fear, and his throat closes. “Is he okay? Is Akashi okay? What happened to him, Takao?!” A woman gives him a wide berth as she walks around him, a giant man shouting fast in Japanese, and Kagami pays her no attention.

 

"He's fine, he's fine," Takao hurriedly answers, flapping a frantic hand that Kagami can't see. "He's literally asleep right next me, be cool." That's the _really_ abbreviated version of it, but Kagami at least needs to know that his boyfriend isn't fucking _dead._  

 

Kagami nearly sinks down to his knees in relief. “Okay. Okay. You gave me a damn heart attack, man. How is he?”

 

From the air around him comes the announcement, _“Do not accept baggage or unattended articles from any person. Unattended articles will be seized and searched.”_

 

"Yeah, I know, sorry. Just, uh--"

 

Takao waits for the announcement to be over, his brow furrowing. "Where are you?" 

 

“I’m in the airport, where do you think? I haven’t heard from him in weeks, then all of a sudden it’s tears and death and no one knows where he is.”

 

"Oh, _sweet_ , are you flying over?" Takao's voice is heavy with relief. "Come _get him_. I don't know how you heard about his dad dying because I _know_ he hasn't called you, but it's been weird, man. Shin-chan dragged Akashi home with him as a hot mess the night of--" _And we had a really hot threesome, whoops._ "--and he's been here ever since. I mean--he's mostly sleeping about 22 hours a day, gonna be real. I've been trying, but he and I weren't exactly close, and Shin-chan's worried but _useless_." 

 

That’s about as bad as Kagami had feared. He shoulders his duffel bag again, clutching the printed-out check-in form from All Nippon Airways, striding towards the Tom Bradley International Terminal yet again. “It’s fine. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in like...twelve hours. Thirteen to Midorima’s place--text me the address just in case?”

 

"Yeah, I'll hook you up. Seriously, Kagami," Takao sighs out, giving the lump next to him a gentle prod, which doesn't do a damned thing. "Try to relax on your flight, because you've got your work cut out for you here." 

 

“Yeah, that’s fine. Just let him sleep, okay? I’ll take care of him when I get there, if--hey, does he have to stay there?” The terminal ceilings are absurdly high, and Kagami waves away a woman trying to ask for his final destination, heading for the ANA counters. “Like, is someone gonna crash through my door and try to arrest me for harboring a prince or what the fuck ever?”

 

"Huh? No, they don't care." Takao's mouth twists, and he lowers his voice just in case Akashi _is_ paying any attention to him. "He missed the last week of school before vacation and no one even checked on him. It's fucked _up_. Like, someone appoint him a guardian or something, only the day after did someone actually come and check on his location, and then, nothing. The only people constantly asking where he is are the meika families with daughters. Apparently, something made his engagement fall through right before his dad died…so he's single on paper. It's a _cluster,_ Shin-chan's parents are eating it up and it's sooo weird." 

 

“I’m on my way.” Kagami hangs up, taking huge strides to get to the counter. Only after he’s been through security, with an hour and a half to spare until his plane boards, does he pull out his phone again, dialing Nijimura.

 

"'Sup. _No_ , don't pack a goddamn mini-skirt, Nana's gonna kill you and you'd deserve it. Sorry," Nijimura says, switching rapidly from his conversation with his _very_ pissed off little sister, back to Kagami again. "What's up?" 

 

“Oh, god that’s right, you’re gonna be in Japan.” Kagami’s relief is nearly palatable in his voice. “Hey, so, I’m skipping the last couple of days of practice. I’m headed to Tokyo like, right now. Also,” he drops his voice, “what do you know about getting a fake passport? Just in case of emergencies?”

 

"Uh, what the fuck?" Nijimura says, his voice half-wary, half-amused. "First of all, fuck you, don't skip practice. Second of all, are you running from the mob or something, damn."

 

“Akashi’s dad died.”

 

"Oh. Fuck _._ "

 

There's a pause where he curses again--punctuated in the background by his sister's complaints of "Shuu-chan, you sound like a gross thug, shut uuuup!"--before he exhales heavily into the phone. "Okay. Is he okay? I don't know _anything_ about fake passports, I mean, I know a guy that _might_ , but man…" 

 

“I dunno if he’s okay, it sounds like he’s kinda...I don’t know, comatose. And man...” Kagami runs a hand back through his hair, distracted and anxious. “He’s got _no one_ there, apparently no one is even making sure he goes to school. Check with your guy. Just in case? Or give me a number or something? I’m thinking way too far ahead and being a nutcase, I’m sure, I’d just like to be prepared for whatever.”

 

"…Why don't you get there, update me on what Akashi's up to, and we'll talk about it then," Nijimura carefully says. "Because you're not gonna like who it is if you talk to them. I'll be there in a couple of days, anyway. We're just lucky this happened on winter break, otherwise I dunno what strings we'd have to pull to go and deal with it." 

 

“You’re not gonna like my answer to this,” Kagami warns, “but I’d have come no matter what.” He looks around at the surrounding crowd, sees they’re mostly white, and adds in low Japanese, “Listen...I’m, uh, kind of in love with him. Sorry.”

 

"Dumbass. I got that the first time you started talking about him."

 

“You--what? S-sempai, I--” Kagami gulps, wiping sweat from the back of his neck. “You shouldn’t spring things like that on people, it’s really scary!”

 

"Oh, shut up. If I was mad about it, I would've punched you in the face right then and there. As if I'd let just anyone be into that little brat, he's high maintenance as hell, you've gotta know what you're doing!"

 

"Shuuuuu-chaaan, I can't find my tights with the little bunnies on them--"

 

"When the hell are you gonna have time to wear tights in Sendai?" Nijimura snaps around his phone, then heaves a sigh, shutting his eyes. "Sorry. Anyway. You're gonna be in Tokyo, right?" 

 

“Yeah. My dad still has our old place--something about it being a bad time to sell, so he’s just hanging onto it for the time being. I’ll text you the address. Sorry again for missing practice, I _just_ found out about all this.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “He’d _really_ want to see you. He...he talks about you.” Is that too much? No, Akashi had said they’d been close.

 

"Good," is the gruff mutter Nijimura offers in return. "He's not gonna have a say in it, I'm gonna at least check on him. Text me when you get in Tokyo and actually see him, you've got me stressed out now and it pisses me off." 

 

“Sorry, Captain! I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as I get there. Thanks again--and tell your sister there are a lot of cute tights in Japan, I _know_ I’ve seen some for girls!”

 

"As opposed to some for guys?! What the hell are _you_ looking at?" 

 

“I--uh, my board is planing now,” Kagami lies, and hangs up, sliding down in his chair to wait for the announcement.

 

Thirteen hours and a day later (travel across the date line is weird), he’s running up to an excessively elegant mansion in an old part of Tokyo, stopping only to present himself to the gate and state his name, credentials, and relationship to Midorima. A few minutes after he sheds the aggressively attentive maid, he jogs up the stairs, knocking on the door she’d given directions to. “Oi. Midorima! You awake?”

 

Midorima opens the door, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “I--fuck. You’re taller than me.”

 

“Not the time,” Kagami mutters, even if he is secretly pleased to note that Midorima is right. “Where is he?”

 

"Yo, Kagami!" Takao bounces up behind Midorima, looking somewhat harried and twitchy. "You're in luck, the princess is actually awake, maybe you've been _sensed_. Shit, you got tall. Uh, come in, and we'll have a…discussion, real quick." 

 

Kagami shuts the door behind him, pulling up a chair and trying not to feel more nervous than he already does. “The worst stuff first, go.”

 

"Pronoun, 'watashi.' 'Atashi', if he--she??--starts going really fast? How good are you at Kyoto-ben, you're gonna need to _get_ good, and um, _so clingy_." Takao's laugh is nervous. "Kinda into me, I'm really hoping she's gonna be into you, I can't keep doing this, I don't like being in what feels like a trippy anime. Shin-chan, help, was that all the worst stuff? Akashi's your friend, damn it."

 

“This Akashi is absolutely a woman,” Midorima says bluntly. “Two gold eyes. Sleeps a lot. Allergic to soy. Looking for a husband.”

 

“Wait. Go back one.”

 

“Looking for--”

 

“No, no, Akashi isn’t allergic to soy, I’ve watched him--”

 

“This is the other personality. A third one.”

 

Kagami stares, then slowly shuts up. “Go on.”

 

Midorima shakes his head. “That’s all. Ah, except that if you mention his father, she starts giggling a lot. Make of that what you will.”

 

“I, uh. Oh. Um. I think I’d better...take a look, huh? Unless there’s a doctor...”

 

Midorima shakes his head again, more curt this time. “A long-term solution, if anything. In the short-term, Akashi just needs to feel...what was the word, Takao? That the website said?”

 

"Safe? Secure? Pick one, I don't know, just cuddle the crazy out. She absolutely wants to eat me," Takao hisses at Kagami, "but criticizes that I'm not _tall enough_ , so--you know, go in there and be tall and hot and that should hopefully do the trick." 

 

Kagami wants to scream that he’s not good enough for the job, he’s not _ready_ , he’s only managed to wade through a few websites and only one short book (okay, article) on the subject of DID and it’s not nearly enough--but that really doesn’t matter, because Akashi, whoever Akashi is, might need him.

 

“Yeah...yeah, okay,” he says helplessly, and stands up. “Where is he, she, whatever, that person? Where’s Akashi?” 

 

Midorima opens the door, then points at one on the other end of the hall. “Knock. Expect Japanese clothes. Good luck.”

 

“Great,” Kagami mutters to himself, and arranges himself (tallishly, he hopes) in front of the other door, then knocks quietly.

 

"Just a moment, please." 

 

The voice might be the same, but the lilt of rounded Kyoto-ben makes it sound that much softer. It's only a short pause before the door slides open, presenting Akashi Seijuurou draped in a formal kimono, done up with all the precision that one would expect of a lady of the house. The stare that fixes itself upon Kagami's face is shockingly bright gold, but it softens in an instant, courtesy of a heavy wave of recognition. "Kagami-san," is the relieved, breathy exhale before Akashi launches forward, latched to Kagami's waist with his face buried neatly into his chest. 

 

"Sweet, I'm off the hook," is Takao's relieved sigh from down the hall.

 

Kagami had heard and listened, sure. That doesn’t mean he’d been prepared for...this.

 

Akashi looks small. He feels fragile, breakable--no, already broken, fractured in small, almost-imperceptible ways. Kagami’s arms go around him without thinking, cradling, holding him close. 

 

Really, what else is there to do?

 

“Hey. I heard you, uh, were having a hard time, so I’m here. Can I come in?”

 

"Ah--yes, of course, I've been incredibly rude…" The murmur is a hurried one, the hands that cling to Kagami shaking briefly before letting go, and Akashi all but skitters back from the door to let Kagami come inside. 

 

The guest room itself is an obsessive level of neat and clean, rivaling even Midorima's own need for organization. This is especially clear in the work station Akashi has set up for himself, with stacks upon stacks of white paper lined in elegant, flowery calligraphy making up the majority of it. 

 

Akashi folding himself up into seiza reflexively isn't anything new, but the way he does it is, with his knees neatly touching and his hands folded in his lap. There's still a marked twitchiness there, as if it's difficult for him not to flutter right back into full-body clinging to Kagami. "You've been in America." It's said as if he personally needs the reminder. 

 

“Uh, yeah. Los Angeles.” Kagami isn’t sure why he pronounces it as if the word is a foreign concept, except that Akashi seems to be treating it like one. “I went for basketball, remember?” From what he’s heard of the two Akashis before, neither of them had been _this_ different. This is...a whole lot of mannerisms changing, speech patterns, even (with a quick glance to the calligraphy on the table) different handwriting. “Have, uh, have you been playing basketball lately?” He can hear himself talking to Akashi like he’s an invalid, and hates it. There’s nothing _wrong_ with him, just with...well, his brain.

 

The stare that Akashi fixes him with is a thoroughly startled one. "No, of course not. Why would I? I've been here, taking care of the household." 

 

The hesitation is palpable, but Akashi clearly can't help himself from reaching out and grabbing for one of Kagami's hands. "Forgive me, Kagami-san," he murmurs, his gaze downcast, a mix demure and embarrassed. "I know I'm being terribly forward, b-but missing you has been one of the more painful things that I've ever felt."

 

**To: Taiga Kagami**

**From: Shuuzou Nijimura**

**Subject: hey???**

**hope you got to tokyo ok. status update? i'll be there tomorrow. fucking time changes.**

 

"If you need to answer that, I'm sorry, I understand," Akashi hastily adds, snatching his hand away again at the buzz of Kagami's phone. "I'm sorry." 

 

Kagami firmly reaches out for Akashi’s hand again, pulling it close to his chest. “It’s just a text.” _God, what do I do, I’m no good with girls!_ “I’ve missed you, too. You’re...ah, I’m not sure how I should say this right now, but you’re a very important person to me, you know?”

 

A hot flush immediately spreads over Akashi's face. "Y…you got taller while you were gone, I think?" The nerves justify the stumbling over words, _surely_ , and maybe the way he clings unrepentantly to Kagami's hand will be forgiven, too. "I don't even know how you manage in America, I'd be terrified to go, honestly, b-but if it were with someone like you…" 

 

“I’ll take you sometime,” Kagami promises. It’s still Akashi, he tells himself firmly, when a weird instinct in his body tells him that this is a _girl_ , which is something he absolutely does not want. Hey, at least he has practice with girls now, thanks to his entirely wasted efforts with Cathy the Lesbian. “And yeah, I grew like four inches--um, I guess that means I’m about a hundred ninety-eight centimeters now. Taller than Midorima, heh.” Which had been the goal, whether he’d admitted it to himself or not.

 

"Midorima-san is very tall, but…" Akashi wistfully trails off, shaking his head. "Absolutely _not_ husband material."

 

That's a switch flipped, apparently, and the Kyoto-ben thickens--less formal, but all the more pronounced as he relaxes, and cuddles up on Kagami's arm. "Honestly. I'm not sure how he expects to _ever_ keep a house in order. Every waking moment, I've had to hassle him about one thing or another, and it barely gives me any time to manage what I have on my own plate. I can't _stand it_ when a man isn't _efficient._ " 

 

Too late, Kagami thinks that he should probably have asked the others more about what had flipped the switch on Akashi back to ‘normal’--but then, he was there too, and he has no memories or ideas of that exact thing. It had been a long time coming, of course, but...well, at least this Akashi isn’t stabbing him. Most people would think that was a plus. But this Akashi is also using female pronouns, so to be honest, he’d rather take the stabbing. “Hey, guess who’s coming to see you tomorrow? It’s Nijimura, from Teiko.”

 

"Eh?" A startled blink follows that. " _Eh?!_ N-no, I can't see him!" Akashi's face ends up deftly buried into Kagami's shoulder. "Absolutely not, there's no way, I'll end up making a fool of myself." 

 

“But he really wants to see you.” This is one of the weirder things Kagami has done, probably, but at least Akashi is acting sort of predictably. He wraps an arm around...him? her? and squeezes, gently stroking one shoulder. “You never make a fool out of yourself. I mean, that kimono is so pretty, a fool wouldn’t be wearing that.” At least he’s gotten to try his lines out on a nice lesbian.

 

Pressed close as Akashi might already be, the arm around him is a different part of the equation altogether, or so says his mind. The blush darkens, but Akashi huddles into that arm, clutching at Kagami's shirt with one hand. "There's a lot more to it than just looking nice. Nijimura-san is…he's…he's _different_." 

 

Kagami raises an eyebrow. “Oho? Different? Wow, I thought I was special to you, but he’s in a whole other league, huh?” Maybe that will provoke something? He’s shooting in the dark now, entirely.

 

The first protest that Akashi manages is a strangled little squeak. "I…n-no, that's not…" It obviously takes quite a bit of effort for Akashi to lift his head and look at Kagami, rising panic writing its way across his face. "I didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry if that offended you, please don't leave me again." 

 

 _Ouch_.

 

“Hey, hey, I’m not leaving you. Just teasing a little.” Kagami tries to make sure his hands are gentle as he strokes Akashi’s hair, gathering him close. “I’ll be here as long as you need me. I promise. And you didn’t offend me, I was making a joke. I know Nijimura is special to you.” Though to what degree, he’s starting to wonder.

 

"I-it's not the same, I promise, I wouldn't ever--" The panic sets in to the point of shortened, uneven breaths, and Akashi stops talking for a moment, clinging with both arms around Kagami's neck. "I'm sorry," is the eventual, hiccuping whisper. "I know you can't stay, no one ever does, I'm sorry for asking." 

 

Kissing Akashi has helped in the past with all kinds of stuff, so Kagami throws caution to the wind and does it now, cupping his face gently, brushing his lips across those soft ones. It’s hard not to deepen it on instinct, but he holds back, keeping everything light and chaste for the moment.

 

The protest that Akashi has planned dies on his tongue. Kagami's hands are big and warm and surprisingly gentle, and the touch of his lips settles it--he absolutely _cannot_ do without this any longer. 

 

"Kagami-san…" Akashi's hands grab at Kagami's shirt, his grip vice-tight. "I'd do anything if it meant you would stay with me," he whispers, lurching up to kiss back harder. 

 

_Can I do it?_

 

The thought is sudden, startlingly clear in Kagami’s mind. He’s been thinking of this moment Akashi is having as just that, a temporary moment, a blip before he gets to see the ‘real’ Akashi Seijuurou again. But what if this is it? What if it’s these gold eyes that he’s looking into, the demure Kyoto speech in his ear, the soft tug of his hands instead of that demanding pout? Can he still...

 

One look at Akashi’s face is enough to settle his mind. 

 

_Yeah. It’s still him. Somehow, it’s still him._

 

“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispers, gathering Akashi close onto his lap. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right here, as long as you want me.” The implications of that sentence are things he’ll deal with later, once they’re both closer to their right minds.

 

Those are the words that need to be said, apparently, because Akashi just nods, burying his flushed face into the side of Kagami's neck as he clings.

 

…Until he passes out, dozing in a second, breathing much slower and easier now that he's in Kagami's arms once more. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

“We’re heeere~!”

 

Mibuchi gives Kagami’s apartment an enormous beaming smile as he enters with Himuro in tow, both of them wrapped up against the winter winds. “Sei-chan, are you feeling all right?” he asks, voice full of concern as he hangs up his own coat, then whips off Himuro’s scarf, revealing a neck mottled with purple hickeys. “Whoops! Anyway, Sei-chan, scoot over, we’ll have Girl’s Talk.”

 

If Himuro wasn't certain of this being a mistake before, he certainly is now. His sigh is long-suffering as he reflexively clamps a hand over the side of his neck--knowing it does no good, but some stupid part of his brain feels the need to try, anyway. "Yo," he wearily greets Kagami. "Been awhile. Sorry it's like this--"

 

"Onee-sama!"

 

Akashi, neatly curled up on Kagami's couch, lights up like one of the million and one poorly designed Christmas trees dotting Tokyo at the sight of Mibuchi, and Himuro tries not to twitch. "Great," Himuro says underneath his breath, "now they're going to be like _lesbians._ " 

 

Kagami spares a mildly amused, mostly-concerned glance at Akashi and Mibuchi, cuddling and already petting each other’s hair. “Or it’ll be like a sleepover. That sounds better, I guess.” He raises an eyebrow at Himuro. “Wow, Tatsuya. You look like a whore.”

 

"Shut up. He tried to write 'love.'" 

 

“He. Uh. Didn’t do a very good job.” Kagami narrows his eyes, then shakes his head. “Nope, it just looks like you got attacked.”

 

"You're seriously going to rag on me about this. _Seriously_?" Himuro takes a step forward, prodding at the side of Kagami's neck. The bruise isn't dark and purple like his own, a lot more delicate, but the sentiment was still clearly there. "You fucked him when he was crazy, didn't you. I can't even say I'm surprised, you're into that nowadays." 

 

Kagami’s hand comes up to clamp down on Himuro’s shoulder, hard, with most of his weight behind it. “Don’t talk about him that way,” he says quietly. “Akashi isn’t crazy. Her father just _died_ , have a little respect.”

 

"Taiga," Himuro quietly, calmly says, "I have news for you. That," he says with a brief nod in the direction of the couch, "is crazy. Everything you told me over the phone is crazy. I'm really sorry his father died, and I feel for him, but that doesn't make him any less crazy."

 

“So, what?” Kagami demands, trying to keep his voice down when his body is more ready to fight than he can ever remember being. “Someone acts weird one day, you just write them off as _crazy?_ Not everyone’s brain works the same way, Tatsuya! That’s...” He racks his mind, trying to think of the word he’d heard back in L.A., and switches to English. “That’s really ableist.”

 

Himuro's lips purse. "It's not ableist if I'm stating a _fact_ ," he lowly, flatly retorts, his own switch to English inevitable. "I'm not saying it's his fault, I'm saying that he's _crazy_ , probably should be in a mental hospital or getting therapy. Seriously, is your solution to keep fucking him back to normal? It's obviously not working, he's still in there using 'atashi' and babbling about the influence of female tanka poets with my boyfri--uh, with Reo." 

 

“At least she’s happy,” Kagami hisses back, leaning forward onto the counter, hearing the pleasant, softly lilting chatter from the living room. “Man, you think I haven’t looked this shit up? There’s _no_ medicine, _no_ cure--all you can do is provide a stable and supportive place, and hope they come out of it. What the hell is taking someone unhappy and locking them in a rubber room gonna do?”

 

"I just think this is a lot for a high schooler that's living literally a whole other country away to try and deal with," Himuro says, and then backtracks. "Wait. Did you seriously just refer to your boyfriend as 'she'? _Taiga_ , come on…" 

 

“She’s a girl on the inside right now!” Kagami says defensively. “And if I don’t deal with it, who will? Akashi has no family, and no friends who want to deal with it, so someone’s got to!”

 

"I'm not saying you're not trying to do the right thing, but you do need to realize your own limitations! Taiga, help find Akashi a therapist or something, you _can't_ keep doing this yourself." Himuro heaves a sigh, folding his arms over his chest. "Are you going to try to tell me this counts for you being bisexual now, too?" he deadpans.

 

Kagami glares at Himuro, trying to figure out how much of his argument is ignorant, and how much is malicious. “I’m only here for winter break,” he finally says, begrudgingly. “And I _have_ been looking for a good therapist. And yeah, I guess it does make me bisexual, since now I’ve made love to a woman.”

 

Himuro stares back at him wearily. "You're so full of shit. You fucked a crazy guy with a currently female personality, that's it, end of story." 

 

“Dude. That is so transphobic.”

 

"Seriously? You're gonna tell _me_ that? Thank god you're having a vacation from L.A." 

 

“What do you mean, _you_ , like you’re some kind of advocate or something?” Kagami demands. “If Akashi is a woman on the inside, then she’s a woman, end of story!”

 

"If that was actually what was going on, yeah, I'd agree with you, but Akashi is _crazy_ , and this is an issue of mental illness, not actually being _trans_. Christ." Himuro shuts his eyes, thoroughly exasperated. "Have you _met_ who I'm dating?" 

 

A muscled, pale arm snakes itself around Himuro’s waist. “ _I_ have,” Mibuchi says cheerfully in accented English. “Is there a problem with me?”

 

“Yeah,” Kagami says. “Your handwriting sucks, Reo-nee.”

 

Mibuchi’s mouth splits into a brilliant grin, and he switches back to Japanese. “Did he tell you I tried to write L O V E? It didn’t work, I kept filling in the spaces--ooh, but I did make a heart, baby, pull down your pants and show--”

 

"I'm not going to do that," Himuro brightly says, even though his sigh is a long, resigned one. "We're having a debate about Akashi. Taiga seems to think that he has now made love to a woman--his own words, not mine--and is very bisexual. Cute, right?" 

 

Mibuchi’s brow furrows, and he folds his hands, thinking. “That’s a _good_ ethical question. I mean, I can’t deny it happened--Sei-chan was _very_ forthcoming about that--but can we really consider it consensual love-making if she’s not entirely in her right mind?”

 

“Oi! She came on to me!”

 

"…That's seriously not what the question was. Are we _honestly_ all referring to Akashi as a girl now?" Himuro asks, confusion written as clear as day across his face. "Come on, Reo, not you, too. Akashi's still a guy, it's just another personality!" 

 

“If she believes she’s a girl, she’s a girl,” Kagami insists stubbornly, and Mibuchi’s eyes narrow at Himuro. 

 

“Hmm...if you don’t think she’s a girl...what do you think about _me?_ Hmph!” He turns, stalking out of the kitchen with a calculated flip of his hair.

 

Himuro's mouth falls open. "What--no, no, baby, come _on_ , that's not what I meant, it's _different_ \--" One glance back at Kagami says it all-- _you did this, this is your fault!_ \--before Himuro hurries after Mibuchi just as a brisk knock comes at the door. 

 

Kagami blows Akashi a kiss on his way, announcing, “Hey, honey, I invited someone over. You ready to see who it is?” Just as he opens the door, admitting Nijimura Shuuzou. “Hey, Captain.”

 

"Yo--ugh, hold on, just a second." 

 

Nijimura dives right back out, roughly snatching a second person back over by the back of their hoodie. "It's cool," he says with a cheerful smile in place. "I've got this. So you were talking about those passports, you still need them?"

 

The rate at which the room dissolves into weird, _weird_ tension is nothing short of outstanding. Himuro's attempts to placate Mibuchi roll to a halt as he catches sight of Nijimura, and as Akashi does--"You could have told me!" The rate at which he scrambles from the couch is pretty astounding, especially when coupled with a perfect, formal bow. "N…Nijimura-san, it's very good to see you again."

 

"What the hell," Nijimura deadpans. Himuro inches gradually behind Mibuchi, hoping he will be missed.

 

Kagami’s smile fades as the room turns...well, for lack of a better word, _weird_. He looks from Nijimura to Akashi, and more importantly, to the person being dragged-- “Haizaki?” he demands.

 

Haizaki Shougo twists unhappily, face bruised, a crust of dried blood on one lip. “Who the fuck are you?” he demands. “Heh, Seijuurou, you look like a slut.”

 

"Wow, shut up," Nijimura says without missing a beat, clocking Haizaki across the back of the head again. "I told you that you wouldn't like the guy that I knew, Taiga. Sorry about it." He clears his throat. "So, uh…Akashi, are you doing well?"

 

Akashi's speed on the basketball court is probably the only thing that rivals the speed at which he dives behind Kagami and latches onto him. Nijimura's eyebrows continue to climb.  

 

“We’re working through it,” Kagami says for Akashi with an apologetic shrug. “Ah...maybe I shouldn’t have sprung this on h-her. Sorry.”

 

Haizaki casts a gaze around the room, squinting at Himuro’s profile behind Mibuchi. “Didn’t I beat you up?”

 

Mibuchi’s smile is sharp, and he starts meticulously rolling up his sleeves. “Oh? Who’s this, then?”

 

"Huh?" Nijimura tries to process keeping a firm leash on Haizaki, following what the _hell_ Kagami is talking about, and apparently--"Wait--seriously? Tatsuya?" 

 

Himuro offers up a half-hearted little wave from behind Mibuchi. "Hey, Shuu." 

 

"This is too weird," Nijimura says with a laugh, dragging Haizaki in and throwing him into the nearest chair. "Sit," he flatly orders. " _Stay_." 

 

Haizaki flops down, running a hand back through ash-colored hair about an inch long, deliberately putting his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s mine now,” he mutters to himself, though no one can hear him.

 

Kagami turns to Akashi, cupping that delicate, lovely face in his hands. “He heard about your dad,” he says softly. “He wanted to pay his respects. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

 

“ _Seriously_ , Tatsu, who the hell is this?”

 

Nijimura kicks Haizaki's feet off of the coffee table (reflex) before picking what seems to be the _easiest_ task in the room first, which is good, because apparently, Kagami and Akashi need to have a moment. "Ah, sorry, you probably don't remember me," Nijimura lightly offers Mibuchi as well. "I was Teiko's power forward for awhile, but Tatsuya and I met when I moved to America."

 

"Remember, Reo?" Himuro says lightly, his smile somehow not wavering. "The one I told you about the other night? When we got drunk? This is Shuu--sorry, Shuuzou, right?" _Help me._ As for Haizaki, he's not going to even talk about that asshole, but he _does_ want to punch him, and probably will the second they're out of the apartment. 

 

Akashi spares a wary glance around the room, and subsequently huddles up closer to Kagami, hands firmly entrenched into his shirt. "I told you I couldn't see him," he whispers, stuffing his face down into Kagami's chest for good measure. 

 

The sharpness in Mibuchi’s eyes vanishes, and he smiles broadly, offering his hand and a bow. “That’s right, I remember you now. Ahh, I had the honor to play against you in the first year of middle school--and I was _ever_ so disappointed that you didn’t play any of my favorite positions to mark.”

 

Kagami ushers Akashi a bit further away, murmuring, “I know, but he’s my friend, and he’s a guest. Wouldn’t it be rude not to say something?” This Akashi, he’s seen, is _very_ concerned with appearances, and politeness. “Uh, do you want to go get us all some tea? Like a good hostess?”

 

"Sorry about it--glad to hear you're still playing, though, I've heard good things from Taiga." Even as he's shaking Mibuchi's hand, it's hard to miss how Nijimura's attention zooms back in on Himuro. "Are you still playing, Tatsuya? I mean, heh, of course you are, if you're hanging around with all of these guys--"

 

"Hah…yeah…" _Oh my god, it's the same as before._ Maybe if he kills Kagami for letting this all happen, that would be fun. Himuro settles for letting his stare bore holes through the side of Haizaki's head. Killing him sounds _more_ fun.

 

Akashi's hesitation is palpable, but he nods all the same, reluctantly ungluing himself from Kagami and disappearing into the kitchen. 

 

“Is Seijuurou really nuts?” Haizaki asks with a slow grin that splits his lip open again. He doesn’t seem to notice, except to lick up the slow trickle of blood. “Serves that bitch right.”

 

Mibuchi cocks his head at Nijimura. “Ah, pardon me for asking, but why the hell is he here?”

 

“I asked him to come. Kind of,” Kagami amends. “In case things get worse for Akashi, I want to be able to take him home with me. No one here is going to look out for him--Reo-nee, you’re _graduating_ , before you say anything.”

 

Mibuchi’s mouth snaps shut.

 

"You're gonna sit outside if you don't start watching your mouth," Nijimura snaps, whirling back to Haizaki and giving the side of his head a hard whack. "He'll be useful if you need him to be, I swear," he adds crossly, folding his arms as he looks back to Kagami. "I've been away for too long, so he's forgotten a lot of his training and turned into a giant piece of shit. Seriously, though, Taiga, are you really trying to smuggle Akashi out of the country?" 

 

"Bad idea," Himuro mutters underneath his breath. 

 

Kagami shrugs helplessly. “I tried to get him to get a real passport. He just kept saying they’d never approve it, and I just want him to have the _option_ , so...”

 

"That's the kind of bullshit his family's fed him since day one," Nijimura wearily says. "I mean, I'm sure it's _harder_ for him to get a passport, but wasn't there a princess that studied overseas a few years ago? At any rate, I'm going to really need you to explain the crazy thing in more detail, because right now, it just looks like you're all coddling him for no reason." 

 

“It’s--it’s not like that,” Kagami insists. “I can send you a link to the DSM page if you want. You know the whole multiple personality thing?”

 

“Seriously?” Haizaki asks, eyes lighting up. “And one of ‘em’s a chick? Heh.”

 

Mibuchi lets out a low humming sound. “Not sure how much longer I can put up with him,” he says cheerfully.

 

Himuro idly cracks his knuckles. 

 

Nijimura's lips purse. "I believe you, but I still think you're all coddling him. Yeah, his dad died, but if anything, that should be a relief for him. His dad wasn't…" 

 

It's then that Akashi quietly reenters, setting down the tray of tea onto the coffee table. Nijimura heaves a sigh, and immediately strides over, not even letting Akashi get into the nitty gritty of tea pouring ceremonies when he _knows_ how long that can take. "Akashi, look at me." 

 

The look on Akashi's face is nothing shy of terrified, and Nijimura catches him by the arm before he can flee back to his now very typical hiding place behind Kagami. "See, this is bullshit," Nijimura firmly says. "You _know_ me, don't act like I'm gonna kill you or something…damn, they really are both gold, aren't they?" he murmurs, leaning down to catch Akashi's gaze. "Wild." 

 

Kagami starts forward, but Mibuchi catches his arm. “He’s allowed to talk to him,” Mibuchi says quietly. “You know him, would he hurt Sei-chan?”

 

“I mean-- _no_ , but Akashi is scared!” It doesn’t matter to Kagami that there’s no real reason why Akashi should be scared. He _is_ , that much is obvious, and that’s enough for Kagami to want to rush over there and put an end to the grabbing as soon as possible. “Captain, what are you doing?”

 

"Dealing with this," Nijimura sharply retorts, with the tone of his voice enough to make Akashi flinch again. "Oi. Listen to me when I'm talking to you, I was your captain, you little brat." 

 

"I…I'm listening--"

 

"Playing pronoun roulette isn't cute."

 

"I don't know what you're--"

 

"You know your dad is _dead_ , right? That means you've got to man up and take care of things. It doesn't matter if you're twelve or twenty-one, you're _it_ , do you really want your family name to go to shit?"

 

Akashi's face flushes hot, and he shakes his head, his fingers clenching into his palm as he tries to tug his arm away. "Nijimura-san, please--"

 

Nijimura inhales a slow breath through his nose, which is it before his other hand cracks solidly across the side of Akashi's face, hard enough to make him stumble back. "Get ahold of yourself already!" 

 

Kagami shakes off Mibuchi’s hand--or Mibuchi lets him go, he isn’t sure, the only thought in his mind lunging at Nijimura, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground, slamming him back against the wall. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You _hit_ him!”

 

Mibuchi grabs Akashi, tucking him close to his chest, eyes dark and furious. “The hell is wrong with you?”

 

“Oh my god,” Haizaki says, torn between laughing and groaning. “It was _one slap_ , you goddamn sissies.”

 

"You need to go outside," Himuro grinds out, just shy of taking a chance at Haizaki's face while everyone else has their hands full. 

 

"Because I know what _works_ , dumbass," Nijimura snaps, a rare flare of his temper getting him to twist and knee Kagami right in the gut for some sweet distance between them again. It's not as hard as he'd normally do it, but he does _not_ like tall kids slinging him around, damn it. "Talk to me when you've got better plans!"

 

"Nijimura-san," is the muffled, sniffling exhale into Mibuchi's chest, "you hit _hard_." 

 

"Yeah, well, _Seiko-chan_ in there was being more stubborn than you've ever been, call off your attack dog over here and get ready to be lectured!" 

 

Akashi, still reeling, sniffs again in an attempt to stop sharp, reflexive tears from streaming out of his eyes, and lifts a shaky hand up. "Taiga, please, I'm fine, don't hurt Nijimura-san." 

 

Kagami blinks tears of pain out of his eyes--Nijimura might hit hard, but his kicks are _nothing_ to sneeze at--and straightens up, backing away from Nijimura warily. “I just don’t like--wait.” He turns, staring at Akashi, brows drawn together. “Tell me you’re fine again.”

 

“He’s _not_ fine,” Mibuchi says with a huff, pulling him in closer. “What the hell kind of captain hits their teammates?”

 

"Reo. I can't breathe." 

 

"I hit them when they deserve it," Nijimura firmly says, and smacks Kagami upside the head for good measure. "Like right now! Don't question your captain! That's why you dragged me out here, isn't it? Who knows this little shit better than me, huh? Well," he amends, "I knew him pretty well back in middle school, and he doesn't seem like he's changed that much. Vouch for me, Haizaki." 

 

"No one wants to hear his opinions," Himuro lightly chimes in, but he does sigh and step over to attempt to dislodge Mibuchi. "Reo, let him go, just a little--"

 

“He was always creepy close to Seijuurou,” Haizaki says sourly. “Yeah. I guess he knew him pretty well.”

 

Mibuchi lets go once both Kagami and Himuro are tugging at his arms, though he does it ungraciously and with a huff. “I don’t see why this is the _bad_ plan now--”

 

Kagami looks down at Akashi, intent. “Did you just use _ore_? Can I see your eyes?”

 

Akashi blinks up at him, his stare clear and brilliantly red through the odd, lingering, stinging tear or two. "Obviously I used _ore_ , what else would I--oh." A pause, and he warily reaches up to touch his hair, heaving a long sigh of relief when he feels his bangs as long as ever. "Oh, thank god…"

 

"See?" Nijimura smugly tosses over. "I'm an expert." 

 

"Well, it certainly worked…" Himuro dryly says, leaning away with a shrug. 

 

Kagami stares down at Akashi, not sure whether to be relieved or annoyed. “What the...it was that easy? For anyone, or just you? It didn’t say _anything_ like this online,” he mutters, unable to help himself when he ruffles Akashi’s hair, then collapses back onto the sofa.

 

"Of course it didn't say anything about it, he's a little shit," Nijimura grouses, folding his arms over his chest. 

 

"…I really don't know what just happened, but I apologize for causing anyone an undue amount of trouble," Akashi warily attempts, starting to bow--and then grinding his teeth at the pointed _dig_ of a tight, tight obi right into his ribs. "Well, that's awful. How do women tolerate this. Um. Reo. Can I enlist your help in getting _out_ of this? Taiga, I'm borrowing some of your clothes." 

 

"I've got a theory," Nijimura idly says as he flops back down onto the couch next to Kagami, and really tries not to look at Himuro's ass in those tight skinny jeans as Akashi drags Mibuchi back to one of the bedrooms, and Himuro turns to follow (presumably to stand guard, if that glare back at Haizaki has anything to say about it). "If you wanna hear it." 

 

Kagami folds his arms, eyes wary. “I’m listening.” Listening, but still not entirely convinced that this was the right course of action, not when everything he’s read has said that it can’t _possibly_ be. “He’s not faking it, if that’s what you think.”

 

"Yeah, I know. He wouldn't embarrass himself like that, he's too proud." Nijimura leans forward, his elbows set onto his knees. "I chatted with Midorima a bit before I came over here to get the full scoop, because you're not all that forthcoming even when you asked me to come to Tokyo and help you and him out. Shitty, by the way," he flatly adds. "But each personality's got something to prove, right? This one wants you to take care of her and shelter her. The 'boku' one wants to always be in control and have everyone obey him. By giving them what they want, you're helping them stick around. I mean, I didn't know it would work, and I have no clue if it always will, but I figured it was worth a shot, just this once." 

 

Kagami runs that through in his mind a few times, thinking hard. He goes over what he knows about Akashi, what he knows about each personality, what he’s _seen_ of them. Assuming that the ‘ore’ personality is the real one--

 

 _It’s when everyone stopped obeying ‘boku’ that he went back to ‘ore’ in the first place,_ he realizes, leaning his elbows on his knees. _And if this worked..._ “It seems way too easy,” he says finally. “But...I mean, it obviously worked, right? So I guess...I guess that was the right choice.” He sighs, rubbing his hands over his face. “Sorry for not telling you in advance. I couldn’t think of a way to say it that didn’t sound fucking weird. ‘Akashi had another mental break and thinks he’s a woman now’ just sounds...I dunno, worse than it really was.”

 

"Well, it probably is way too easy. It's not fixing the underlying issue, it's just snapping him out of it…for now? For the near future? Who the fuck knows, I'm not like, a professional or anything." Nijimura shrugs tiredly. "It's cool, we've got it under control now, or at least, for the moment…"

 

"But why is my _left_ hand covered in ink?" is Akashi's mystified murmur from just down the hall.

 

Nijimura leans in closer to Kagami before they're interrupted. "One more thing," he lowly hisses, "you could have told me that you were friends with _Tatsuya_." 

 

Kagami blinks. “Tatsuya? Uh...no offense,” he says, slightly baffled, “but how the hell do you know him? I grew up with him, he’s like my brother...and more importantly, he’s lived in Japan for years?”

 

"Bullshit! He told me he'd been in America since he was a baby when _I_ met him over there, and he's--fucking christ, I can't believe you know the gay panic guy." 

 

Pause. "I mean--the…your…you know what, give me a second to revisit that sentence." 

 

Kagami holds up a hand, face weary. “It’s okay, Captain. He’s that guy for a lot of guys.”

 

Nijimura groans, burying his face into both hands. "I hate that. I really fucking hate that."

 

"Right, so," Akashi briskly says as he strides back into the living room, and very much draped in one of Kagami's t-shirts and belted into a pair of his shorts. One cheek is only slightly red from Nijimura's backhand now, and he bows a deep greeting/apology to both Kagami and Nijimura. "My deepest apologies for the inconvenience I've undoubtedly caused. And hello, Nijimura-san--"

 

"Look at this asshole," Nijimura sighs, reaching over to grab Akashi and actually hug him in a proper greeting. "It's good to see you, too, Akashi. Sorry I had to hit you." 

 

Akashi tries not to wobble when he's released, his face somewhat flushed (now is not the time to remember _Skype_ ). "I…well, it was necessary, I think. Taiga, what day is it?" 

 

“Uh, Monday,” Kagami offers, looking at his watch to be sure. “It’s, uh, the day after your birthday.” That, more than anything else, tells him that Akashi has had one of those memory lapses. It’s difficult to forget what day it is the day after your own birthday, theoretically.

 

“I don’t get a hug, too?” Haizaki drawls, his feet twitching with the desire to be on the table, even if a look at Nijimura’s back makes him keep them firmly planted on the floor.

 

"Ah." Akashi rocks back on his heels, thinking, and refocuses a second later to stare at Haizaki, as if he's just appeared. "Haizaki? Why are you here?" His eyebrows raise. "Your hair is better again, congratulations."

 

"Guess there's gonna be some aftershocks while he gets himself back together," Nijimura says, entirely unfazed, and he turns his head to give Haizaki a look that very clearly says _behave_. "How are you feeling, anyway, Akashi?" 

 

"Very tired." It's too honest of an answer for him, honestly, but Akashi can't bite it back, not when his head is still throbbing. "And…craving tofu _so_ badly," he admits on a groan. "Why? I'm in Tokyo, aren't I? Damn it."

 

Nijimura whistles. "Listen to the mouth on him. Taiga, you're a bad influence." 

 

Kagami hauls himself to his feet, patting Akashi’s shoulder as he makes his way to the kitchen. “I’ve got some beans ready to cook,” he admits. “And for once, you didn’t clean me out. Because of that soy allergy she had.”

 

“Okay,” Haizaki says, mostly to himself. “We’re talking about it like it’s normal. Sure.”

 

“Sei-chan, we can go back to Kyoto whenever you want,” Mibuchi promises smoothly. “Ah, I’m going to call Takao-kun, I’m sure he and Midorima-kun will want to know you’re feeling better.”

 

"That's another kind of cruel punishment, why did I have a soy allergy?" Akashi murmurs mostly to himself, entirely too perplexed. 

 

"Because human brains are weird," Nijimura bluntly says, pointedly _not_ looking at Himuro, who is distracting even when he's just hovering around Mibuchi and--nice, that's definitely a hand in Mibuchi's back pocket, cool, glad to know there's no chance there, _very_ reassuring and enough to make him breathe a long sigh of relief. 

 

"I'll call Shintarou later," Akashi dismisses with an absent wave of his hand, and collapses onto the couch where Kagami had been sitting moments prior. "The day after my birthday…then that means I have some time before school starts up again…" He reaches reflexively for his phone--right, definitely not in his pocket, that's unfortunate. "Taiga," he calls over his shoulder into the kitchen, "please tell me you have my phone--maybe my laptop, or something…" Where _was_ he even last that he had _anything_ on his person? 

 

“I have your phone,” Kagami says, grabbing the tofu mold and the food processor. “But you might not...want to look at it right now.” If the trauma of having a lot to do after his father’s death and picking up the pieces had flipped Akashi’s mind in the first place, immediately flooding him with all of that is probably the worst idea. “Want to wait until after we have tofu? Should be less than an hour.”

 

Akashi's hesitation is palpable. "…I really need something to do right now, if you don't mind." 

 

"Let's make a list of all the stuff you've got to take care of, then, because that's constructive." If there's one thing Nijimura's good at, it's handling high-functioning, anal retentive lunatics, go figure. 

 

"Alternatively, we could drag that asshole outside and school him on a basketball court," Himuro mutters underneath his breath, trying not to glare _too_ much at Haizaki's continued presence, and failing. 

 

"Violence is not the answer, or something," Nijimura deadpans, even as he turns his attention back to Kagami. "Oi, still thinking about smuggling, or do you want me to cut Haizaki loose?" 

 

“I vote cut Haizaki loose,” Haizaki volunteers.

 

Kagami scowls at him. He wavers, then nods shortly. That was only a contingency plan in case Akashi was unable to come willingly. And if that should happen again, Nijimura will definitely be able to find him again. “We don’t need him.”

 

“Aww, do you need to say it like that? When I was so nice to show up and--” At a look from Nijimura, Haizaki sighs, climbing to his feet. “Whatever, I’m going. I wanted to take your tofu first, but I’m going.”

 

“You could just say you want to taste it!”

 

“Nah.”

 

"Get out," Nijimura wearily retorts, making sure to slam the door on Haizaki's ass the second he's out of the apartment. "Sorry about him, guys. He's…well. What he is." 

 

"…I have a few questions," Akashi tentatively begins, entirely unsure of how much he's missed and finding it more disorienting by the minute. "First of all, Taiga, what are you smuggling? Second of all--if I'm recalling properly, and I _think_ I am, you were in America until very recently…but now you're here, in Tokyo, in the apartment I'm fairly certain your father was going to sell…?" 

 

Kagami pulses the food processor a few times, giving Akashi a smile that’s far more affectionate than it is anxious, for the first time in days. “Uh, yeah. This is winter break, so I had some free time, and Takao called me and said you were having some issues. So of course I came.” _I’d do just about anything, if you needed me._

 

He turns back to the tofu, plopping the mixture into a big pot on the stove. “Dad just hasn’t found a good buyer yet, so I can use this place until he does. He’s not trying very hard, apparently he refuses to sell it for less than what it’s worth and the market isn’t great right now.”

 

"Ah." Akashi rocks back where he sits, briefly staring up at the ceiling. "Then--third question. Nijimura-san."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Why are you here? You were in America, too, unless…?" 

 

"Because your boyfriend called me and said you needed a punch to the face," Nijimura deadpans. "I mean, not in so many words, but--"

 

Akashi stares at him, all sorts of frozen, and Nijimura backtracks, attempting to figure out what he said that could have triggered that kind of reaction. "Oh. Uh. Sorry, I thought we were in cool company about the boyfriend thing…? No?" 

 

"We're...not--um--"

 

"Cool, cool, whatever, sorry." Nijimura raises his hands placatingly. "I didn't mean to assume. Geez." 

 

Kagami’s face flushes bright scarlet. “C-Captain,” he hisses, hands clenching on the countertop. “I never said that! I only--” He swallows, horrified at his own reaction and how embarrassing this feels. “If a guy says that he has f-feelings for another guy, that doesn’t automatically mean that they’re dating!”

 

"You just got on a plane and chased him down to Tokyo, what the hell was I supposed to think!" Nijimura snaps. 

 

The look of horror on Akashi's face says it all as he whirls around where he sits to glower into the kitchen. "Taiga, don't just go around _telling_ people!"

 

"Boy, must be rough," Himuro mutters underneath his breath, stuffing his hand further into the back pocket of Mibuchi's jeans.

 

“You said it, baby,” Mibuchi answers with a smile, slipping his hand inside the back of Himuro’s pants in return with a grimace. “God, skinny jeans are _out_ , you know! Like my wrist, and its socket!”

 

Kagami holds up his hand, looking pleadingly at Akashi. “He already knew! I didn’t tell him _anything_ about you, I have the right to come out if I want!”

 

"They're out in _Japan_ , not in L.A., and you like the way my ass looks in them so shut up." 

 

"You obviously must have told him something, Nijimura-san is usually very oblivious to this kind of thing!"

 

"Yo, I'm literally right here, lovebirds," Nijimura dryly says.

 

“He’s not as oblivious as you think!” Kagami insists. “Look, he can’t even keep a straight face around Tatsuya!”

 

"Don't you dare bring me back into this," Himuro growls, shimmying closer to Mibuchi.

 

"Okay, that's so unfair, you told me no one can keep a straight face around him," Nijimura snaps.

 

Akashi groans, slowly sinking back down into the couch and grabbing a pillow to pull over his head. 

 

“Sei--ah, Akashi,” Kagami tries desperately, “why don’t you tell Nijimura about your fiancee? I heard you’ve been spending a lot more time with--”

 

He cuts off at a frantic shake of the head from Mibuchi, falling silent. “Or,” he amends swiftly, “when we’re done with eating tofu, we can go play street ball?”

 

"Fine," is the muffled response from underneath the pillow. "That's fine. But give me back my phone first, I want to text Shintarou and let him know I'm alive." 

 

Kagami tosses the phone to let it bounce harmlessly on the couch. He sighs, and admits, “If Midorima shows up, we’ll at least have enough for three on three. Well, four, with Takao.”

 

"That sounds refreshing," Akashi murmurs, huddling up on the couch with his phone. "I'm not sure I'm up for much more than that--sorry, everyone." 

 

"Don't worry about it," Nijimura says on a sigh, flopping down next to Akashi and ruffling his hair. "I'm just glad to see you feeling better." 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: I live**

**If I remember correctly, I caused you quite a bit of an imposition over the past few days…?? My deepest apologies.**

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: Good**

**Not that I was worried about you or anything. It’s about time you snapped yourself out of it. All of your things are still at my house.**

 

 _I never get a head pat,_ Kagami thinks moodily, straining out the okara. “Does anyone here eat okara or should I throw it out?”

 

“No thanks!” Mibuchi calls, dislocating his other wrist.

 

 _Nijimura-san is patting my head right now, be calm, you're fine, Seijuurou_. Akashi's fingers do not slip or shake, he is _very_ collected. 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: I see**

**Thank you. In that case, is there any way I could get you to bring them by Taiga's? He's making tofu. There's fresh okara I can tell him to not throw out right now…**

 

"If you're going to complain about my jeans, why do you keep picking them out for me and still stuffing your hands into them?" is Himuro's half-hearted complaint. "Come on, Reo…" 

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: WAIT**

**Does that American know how to make unohana??? I can be there by the time it’s ready!!**

 

“Because you look good,” Mibuchi says with a sigh. “Oi, Shuu-kun, you’re staring again, I _know_ it’s a great ass, but get ahold of yourself.”

 

"Taiga, please don't throw out the okara." Akashi, pleased that he's able to at least properly bribe Midorima for once, settles back with a vague smile on his lips. 

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: No worries**

**He'll save it for you. Takao is invited, too, of course. Nijimura-san is here, we were thinking street ball after dinner.**

 

"I'm--forget it, I'm not staring."

 

"Reo, don't encourage him by drawing attention to things," Himuro mutters, leaning up to press a kiss to the side of Mibuchi's throat--something Akashi deftly ignores, and Nijimura sort of stares at, slack-jawed. 

 

“Fine. Does he want me to cook it?” Kagami shakes his head, muttering to himself, “Stupid question, that big idiot can’t fucking cook, probably just assumes I’ll make it for him,” as he starts slicing carrots.

 

“You can either keep your eyes somewhere better,” Mibuchi says sweetly, “or you can ask for an invitation. Pick one.”

 

**To: Akashi Seijuurou**

**From: Midorima Shintarou**

**Subject: Ah**

**We are on the way. I will bring Nijimura-san’s lucky item.**

 

**To: Midorima Shintarou**

**From: Akashi Seijuurou**

**Subject: Thank you**

**very much.**

 

"Sorry--sorry, I'm--Taiga, you need some help in the kitchen, I bet, right?" Nijimura hurries off the couch and into the kitchen before there's a solid answer. 

 

Himuro shrugs and promptly drags Mibuchi over to one of the chairs, pushing him down into it, and then using Mibuchi as a chair himself. "All mostly straight guys are the same," is the whisper into Mibuchi's ear.

 

Akashi, king of ignoring all things, neatly folds himself up into a couch corner, attempting to catch up on the barrage of nonsense that are his missed calls, texts, and too many e-mails to count. 

 

Dinner is fortunately uneventful, even after Midorima shows up, Takao in tow. Akashi keeps to himself, satisfying the tofu craving that feels as though it's been lingering for _years_ , somehow, and tries not to watch Kagami too openly even after dinner, when street ball is still on, and the teams are evenly divided.

 

He opts out to keep them that way, and doesn't even have to feign illness. He still feels dizzy, disconnected, all kinds of exhausted, and sitting on his laptop and watching the rest of them play is at least soothing to his nerves. At one point, Takao makes an odd comment that is probably supposed to be a sex joke--about a threesome??--and the flustered way that Midorima reacts around him means that Akashi is _probably_ supposed to get more out of it than he does. Is he missing something else now? No, that's not how it works.

 

He remembers everything with odd, crystal clarity, but in fits and spurts and with events not quite in the correct timeline. His birthday was yesterday. Hm. Then when did his father die? _A week ago_ , shouts every headline, and Akashi gnaws slowly on his lower lip as he attempts to catch up, piecing together everything little by little. 

 

It's overwhelming to be sure, but fortunately, Kagami's apartment is quiet and clear of anyone except the two of them--Nijimura, bowing out to be with family, Himuro and Mibuchi, off in a hotel, and Midorima and Takao, right back home. Akashi slowly unwinds, stretching out on Kagami's bed, and resists the urge to pull every pillow onto his head and suffocate himself as he stares at what seems to be endless numbers, contracts, things that don't come _close_ to making sense, but will need to, very, very soon. 

 

He shuts his laptop, burrows down, and stuffs his face down into a pillow that smells very strongly of Kagami's shampoo. _I don't know what to do._

 

Kagami enters his bedroom, wearing just a towel wrapped around his waist, stopping in the doorway to watch Akashi with a soft look in his eyes. _God, I wish we could both stay here,_ he thinks, and can’t even be appalled at himself for his weakness. 

 

Is it even weakness? Or had it been weakness to grasp at this chance as if it’s the only one he’ll ever have, to walk out when he’d been happy, content, enjoying life, for a life of strangers and strange challenges? It’s a question he’s been thinking about every day and night since he’d left Japan, and in his lonely bed, there had been a lot of time to think about it. “Hey,” he says quietly, shaking the water out of his hair before he sits on the edge of his own bed, reaching out to rub a hand over Akashi’s back. “You feeling okay? You’ve been through a lot lately. Sorry if I wasn’t much help.”

 

"Don't say that." Akashi slowly rotates, clutching at another pillow as he peers up at Kagami through his bangs. "You've already done so much." His expression twists wry. "I can't believe you came back to Japan for this. It can't be a proper vacation for you." 

 

Kagami grins, leaning back on his hands, moonlight reflecting off the smooth skin of his chest and belly, with just the finest dusting of red hair leading down from his navel in a narrow line. “What do I need a vacation from? I’m out of school, that’s the best I could ask for. And I get to see you.”

 

Akashi opens his mouth to argue against that--but how can he when Kagami is _here_ , and that's exactly where Akashi wants him to be? Something clenches in his chest around his heart, and he slowly scoots closer, abandoning the pillow in favor of slinging his arms around Kagami's waist instead and wordlessly burying his face into his stomach. 

 

Kagami cards the fingers of one hand through Akashi’s hair, relieved beyond measure to feel Akashi’s energy, his _scent_ return to normal. “I missed you. Even when you were here, I missed you. Does that make sense?”

 

Akashi's head moves in a slow nod. "It's not me if it's someone else in my head," he mutters, aware of how ridiculous and genuinely _insane_ that sounds, but god, there's no other way to explain it. If there is a way, he doesn't know it. "Taiga…I'm so, so sorry for putting you through this." 

 

“Don’t be sorry for something you are,” Kagami says gruffly, and pulls Akashi closer. “You didn’t ask for it. You know what causes this shit? I looked it up. Child abuse. Don’t ever apologize for something like that, okay? Not to me.”

 

Akashi sways back slightly, lifting his head to blink up at him. "But I wasn't abused. My father never raised a hand to me." 

 

“Yeah? Not even to hug you? Even once?”

 

Another shake of his head, and Akashi sits back, folding up comfortably into seiza-- _not_ the tightly confined, feminine way that he was informed he's been adopting for a week now. "That's not abuse. That's Japanese." 

 

“Yeah, well, my dad is Japanese, too, and I can’t stand him most of the time, and he’s a cold, mean son of a bitch.” Kagami pauses. “I can still remember him hugging me, though. Or carrying me on his shoulders to see a game. But, it can also be trauma or something--like your mom dying. I’m not--I’m not trying to bring it up, I’m just saying...”

 

"Taiga, I don't really think it matters _why_ ," Akashi wearily says, trying not to let his shoulders droop predictably (and failing) the second that his mother is brought up. "Knowing why doesn't make it go away. I'm messed up either way." He lifts a hand, rubbing the back of it over his left eye, as if it aches, and it _does_ \--a dull, throbbing thing that spreads straight down his neck and into his back. "But it doesn't matter. I have more important things to deal with, and I don't even know how to deal with them. My father was still in the process of educating me about the business, I'm single on paper because my fiancee's family self-destructed, I don't have a single real contact with any of the board of trustees, school starts back up in less than two weeks…I don't even have the time, or probably the capacity to grieve, but I'm the reason my father is dead, so what does that say about me?" 

 

God, Kagami wants to argue. 

 

He wants to take Akashi in his arms, tell him that _none_ of this is his fault, that his father is nothing better than no father at all, that he hadn’t killed the old man, but _should have_ \--

 

But what good is all that going to do?

 

Instead, he sighs, rolling onto his stomach on the bed, grabbing at a notebook wedged into the nightstand from his old Seirin days and plopping it onto the bed. “Okay. Make a list of everything you have to do, like Nijimura-san said. Then we can start working on it.”

 

Akashi blinks at him blearily. "Taiga…you know I'm just ranting at you, right? There's no 'we' in this, I don't expect you to deal with any of this." 

 

Kagami glares up at him. “You don’t want my help? Because you think I’m dumb? Just say so!”

 

"That's--that's absolutely not what I meant, why would you jump to that conclusion?" Akashi hastily asks, startled into sitting straighter. "I only meant that this has nothing to do with you. You've already done so much, for you to spend your vacation helping me piece all of this together is asking far too much, and we're not even…" _Dating. Together. Boyfriends._ He can't say the words, and he swallows hard, glancing down at his own lap again. 

 

Kagami shoves himself up, blood heating up. He’s tired, jet-lagged, annoyed about things he can’t even put into words, and sick of beating around the bush. “You don’t want me here? Fine. I know a proper Kyoto refusal when I hear one, so thanks for teaching me.” He grabs a pair of shorts off the floor, yanking them on as he stalks out of the bedroom.

 

" _Taiga_ \--"

 

Akashi wipes a hand down his face, drawing in a slow, calming breath before he slides off of the bed, lengthening his stride to hurry after Kagami. "I don't know why you're upset," he tries, hoping that his voice is calmer than the quickly rising panic in his brain. "Asking you to involve yourself in this kind of thing, after everything else that you've done--why would I ask you to do that?" 

 

Kagami’s jaw is set in a tense, unhappy line. His stomach churns, a sensitive system meeting an unhappy mood. “You still don’t get it. It’s like you--I’m glad it’s that easy for you, but--but shit, it’s not, is it?” 

 

He realizes he isn’t making any sense, and shakes his head, frustrated. “I fell in love with you, you know? But you said I had to go, or you’d break up with me--but that doesn’t make me care about you any less, and every time we see each other, it’s...” 

 

He swallows hard, and looks down at his hands. “I’ve _told_ you I still love you. A dozen times. I came here to be with you, to be here _for_ you. And you’re still fucking surprised that I want to help? Anyone would be upset after being turned down that many times!”

 

Akashi falls silent for a long moment, shutting his eyes as he makes a solid, desperate grab for _calm_. He's supposed to keep a level head, even with things like this, even when he's ready to just grab Kagami and beg him to _stay_ again, no matter how selfish and horrible that is. _If I can be good about this, this one thing--_

 

But that doesn't even sound like what Kagami wants, and that makes it harder. 

 

"I already feel like I make everything difficult," he quietly says, his voice cracking at the edges when he opens his eyes. "I'm--I know it sounds like I'm trying to be a martyr, but I swear I'm not. I wouldn't wish any of this on anyone, least of all someone that I care about as much as I care about you. Does that make sense?" Akashi swallows, folding his arms as he stares down at his feet. "I don't want to drag you down, Taiga. Nothing… _nothing_ scares me as much as that does." 

 

Kagami turns, looking up at Akashi, eyes reddened with pain. “You don’t get it. You want to keep me safe, right? God, imagine how _I_ feel, knowing I can’t do a _thing_ for you most of the time, hearing from everyone that your dad is an asshole, that you had to watch him _die_ \--and then when I can do the tiniest thing for you, you act like you’re ruining my life by letting me, what, be close?” He grabs Akashi’s hand, fierce, intent. “You’re not going to drag me down, Seijuurou. I want to drag you _up_. By your neck if I have to.”

 

"But--"

 

_What if there's literally nothing left for you to drag up?_

 

Akashi's lower lip trembles, and he clamps his other hand over his mouth before he can say the words, before he can start saying a dozen things that are stupid and pathetic and certainly not befitting of anything that he's desperately trying to cling to. It's a momentary reprieve, steadying the hiccuping breath that escapes, but only very momentary, because he dares a glance up at Kagami in the next second. 

 

That does it. "I don't know what else to do anymore," Akashi hears himself say before he lurches forward, his face shoved directly into Kagami's chest in a last attempt to hide it. "Every single time I see you, I just want to beg you to stay," is his wet, ragged whisper. _Shut up, shut up._ "Every single time after you leave, it's like I'm carrying more and more memories until I can't even move, and every single time, it just feels like I want the past five hours, minutes, _seconds_ I had with you a dozen times more than the future. I don't know _what_ to do to fix that, so you tell me--how am I supposed to ask for you to _help me?_ " 

 

Kagami pulls his head back, meeting his eyes with his own, and his voice is ragged and broken when he speaks. “You explain to me why I think every day, _every day_ , that chasing my _stupid_ dream isn’t as important as being with you. It doesn’t make me feel the same. It doesn’t feel _right_. I’m only thinking about where you are. I feel like there’s a damn knife in my chest every time I think about you, but it’s the only time I’m _happy_ \--fuck, I never thought basketball was just a _stupid game_ before I chose it over you, and I’d undo that in a heartbeat if I thought you’d take me back!”

 

"But it's not stupid, it's--isn't it the reason we met in the first place?" Akashi rocks back, his laugh weary and wet. It doesn't matter where he looks now--everything is blurry and watery, and he scrubs a hand across the back of his eyes. "I don't want to be the reason you give up on something that you've always wanted to do. I can't do that, Taiga." His lower lip trembles again, and he bites down onto it-- _hard_. "If you're choosing me over that dream because you genuinely want me more, then I won't say anything against it. But _please_ \--only do that if you're sure, if you're _serious_ , because I'll know, you _know_ I'll know."

 

Kagami shakes Akashi a little, grabbing him hard by the shoulders and squeezing. “I want to get this straight,” he says firmly. “I don’t want to give up basketball. But, fuck, you think I’ve found anything in America as much fun as playing against you assholes from Teiko? Sure, it’s the best way to go if I want to make a career--but who fucking says I want that? _I_ never said that, I barely even _thought_ about it, and all of a sudden everyone’s telling me I’m a fucknut if I don’t give up _everything_ for it--fuck, I _always_ said that basketball everywhere is all the same!” He laughs bitterly. “And now I’m giving a speech again.”

 

"...I love your speeches," Akashi gravely says before stretching up on tiptoe to fist his hands into Kagami's hair, hauling him down for a desperately hungry kiss. 

 

All of the nervous, unhappy tension coiled in Kagami’s belly evaporates with that kiss, and he wraps his arms around Akashi with the strength of ten men, pulling him close without the intention of _ever_ letting him go. “How,” he pants, voice choked, lips against Akashi’s, “could giving this up... _ever_ be the right move?”

 

"Because I'm really, really not fun," Akashi answers immediately, no matter how his arms wrap around Kagami's neck and cling there. He breaks the kiss with a wet huff and stuffs his face down into Kagami's chest. "I don't know what future you think there is here for you--god, Taiga, I'm a _mess_ , why would you deliberately sign up for that?" 

 

“Idiot.” 

 

Kagami shoves Akashi down onto his back on the couch, eyes shining and intent above him, hot under his skin, so hot it bleeds out against Akashi’s, making Akashi’s skin feel cool to the touch. “I’m happier when I’m with you. That’s all. So _stop_ making it sound like you’re giving me Kyoto-style rejections, or I’ll really go this time!”

 

"Please, _please_ don't." 

 

Akashi's hands go right back to clinging the second that they can, pulling at Kagami to keep him close, as if leeching from that warmth is keeping him alive. "Is that blunt enough? I really don't want you to leave--ever, probably, I don't think I can do this without you and I'm _sorry_ \--" 

 

Kagami holds up a finger to Akashi’s mouth, silencing him. “You could just say that I make you happy,” he says wryly. “Or that you like being with me. Everything doesn’t have to be all _that_ life and death, does it?”

 

"…I don't think I have another setting," Akashi weakly replies, slumping back. "But--you do make me happy, very much so." 

 

“Okay. Cool.” Kagami brushes another kiss to Akashi’s lips, pulling back with a little smile. “Then...yeah, good. We’re us again.” Even saying it fills him with a sweet liquid warmth that radiates out from his belly to every inch of his body.

 

_Details? So many that need to be ironed out, what does that mean, are you coming back, what am I doing, I can't even begin to make a list, I don't know what I'm doing--_

 

His brain won't shut up, but Kagami is mercifully still warm, and stuffing his face into the side of his neck is the only thing Akashi can really process. "Please lay on me until I pass out and can deal with everything in the morning." 

 

Kagami lays firmly down, tugging Akashi to his chest. “Yeah. I can do that.” And really, what else matters right now?

 


	18. Chapter 18

It's hard to sleep normal hours when it feels like he has been sleeping forever. 

 

Thus, come five in the morning, Akashi is up. Checking his e-mail makes his teeth grind, checking his phone makes him start to twitch, and by six, when he's out of the shower, he already has a splitting headache. 

 

It's just a good thing that Kagami is jetlagged and already mostly awake at the same time, because otherwise, he'd be annoying as hell, he knows. Attempting to make lists of everyone he needs to hire, everyone he needs to contact, or more terrifying, the choice of simply letting it all go--

 

Akashi's stare bores holes into his laptop, the pad of paper next to him on the kitchen table already full, and he slowly flops down to rest his chin on the table instead. "Taiga. What do _you_ want to do?" Knowing that will make a difference. It's probably too early to talk about it, but he still needs to know. 

 

Kagami looks at Akashi over a cup of black coffee, and takes a long sip. “I have a few options,” he says, with the sound of a man who’s been considering those options for a lot longer than one night. “The semester in America is over. I could come back right now. There’s a couple colleges I’m interested in in America--actually, UCLA said that they want me, but they’re concerned about my age. I bet if I talked to a counselor, she’d defer my acceptance for a year.”

 

He drains the cup, making a face at the bitterness, and refills it from the pot. “Or, I can stay over there for a semester, then come back here for a gap year. Same thing, defer my acceptance, except I wouldn’t have to go to school here. I could just...I dunno. See if the JBL will take me, help you out with your stuff. I’d have a high school degree, so I don’t think Dad would mind either way.”

 

 _You're too good for the JBL_ is what Akashi wants to reflexively say, but he bites his tongue. That conversation is over. It's difficult to switch gears and talk about Kagami in terms of wanting to stay with him over something like the eventuality of the NBA, but he's going to have to get over it. "Right," he says, slowly forcing himself to sit up again, his hands lacing together as he sets his chin on them. "I'm not going to lie and say that having you here _right now_ wouldn't be preferable, but if it's literally just a semester and then you don't have to worry about school at all for a year…" 

 

“Mind you,” Kagami points out wryly, “I’m really not getting much of an education, so we’ll just leave that out of the equation. Did I tell you they assigned me a tutor to do all of my homework, just so I don’t get ‘distracted’ from basketball?” He shakes his head, baffled once again at the American school system. “Okay, that’s my side of it, and honestly, I don’t care which, because they both kinda have the same ending. So, what’s your side? What’s the difference for you if I stay right now or come in a semester?”

 

Akashi has to stare at Kagami for a long second, trying to figure out if he's telling a joke about the American education system or if it's actually a real thing. He shakes it off, drawing in a deep breath. "Well. It's best to start at the core of the problem. My father didn't expect to die before my 18th birthday, and so therefore, no one was ever appointed to be in charge of…well… _anything_ in my stead, should something like this happen. That leaves me with a couple of choices. Step up and essentially take over--which has choices within that option itself--or to sign over my rights and walk off with my trust fund, but have absolutely no say in the company, or most of my estate." 

 

Kagami nods, trying to wrap his mind around matters of state and fortune before having breakfast. “Okay. Is there any reason you shouldn’t do that last one?”

 

"The businessman answer is that I'd be losing literally my entire fortune, have absolutely no control about what happens to any employees or any aspect of the financial group, my assets would be completely downsized and I'd never see any of it again and why would I _ever_ want to let those investment potentials drift away…" Akashi trails off before he can keep rattling on, and he sighs, his expression wry. "But the real, sentimental answer is that this wasn't my father's company nor was it his estate; it was my _mother's,_ through my maternal grandfather, and I don't want to hand it over to a bunch of men and women that genuinely don't care so long as it turns a profit." 

 

“Right.” Kagami reaches across and takes Akashi’s hand, trying to catch his eyes. “I need you to answer a real question for me. Do you want to be a businessman? I know that’s what you were planning on, because your father said you had to, but...do you _want_ to? Actually think about it before just telling me there’s nothing else you can do, that’s all I ask.”

 

Akashi hesitates, gnawing slowly on his lower lip before he actually glances up, meeting Kagami's eyes. "I really don't want to be stuck in an office all day dealing with numbers and computers and people that are just as bored as I am," he admits wearily. "But I don't want to give up my estate. That's why--I don't know. Ideally, I'd find someone to manage in my stead, but I don't know anyone that I can trust at this point. Finding an individual capable of managing accounts like this without expecting them to embezzle in some fashion--I just turned seventeen, _everyone_ knows it, and so I'm a prime target. So it's either that, and expect to lose everything anyway, or I drop out of school, finish through correspondence, and handle it all myself." 

 

“So...you need someone that you can trust who’s good with numbers and managing estates, right?” Kagami pulls out his phone, dialing a few numbers. “That shouldn’t be too hard. Ugh, I forgot he never picks up at feeding time...” He hangs up, sending a text instead.

 

"Wh…Taiga, you know it can't just be anyone, right?" Akashi attempts, startled into a little laugh. "I appreciate the sentiment, but…" 

 

Kagami’s mouth quirks. “What about someone who’s managed estates for fun for like, twenty years, who made a fortune out of nothing in two countries? I mean, I don’t think he’ll do it, but I bet he’ll know someone who will. My grandpa only has a ranch because he thinks it’s _entertaining_ , Seijuurou. He retired at the age of forty-one.”

 

"…Oh." Akashi supposes that makes sense (Kagami's family has money, too, right, right, it's such a good thing to be with someone that actually _understands_ these kinds of matters) but to hear it laid out like this… "That's…I see." _Nothing is settled yet, nothing at all, stop feeling so relieved._ Even with that negative mantra, it's hard not to sag back into his seat with a long breath of relief. "It's too early for this, but if it wasn't, I would give you the most enthusiastic blowjob you've ever had, simply for existing." 

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but there is something better than a blowjob,” Kagami says wryly. “It’s called you not dying before you turn forty because you worked yourself into an early grave. Hell, if you can find someone to manage your estate, you can do...god, _anything_. Be a trial lawyer, you talk about that in your sleep.”

 

Akashi buries his face in one hand. "I would be an _excellent_ lawyer," he mumbles. "But only because as much as I'd love to play shogi for a living, that's not very tenable or interesting because I'd defeat everyone in a year and then be bored out of my mind." 

 

“You’d start doing like you did last year on Rakuzan,” Kagami agrees, “and sitting out of matches. At least in a trial you can’t sit out, because you’re doing some good in the world, huh?” He _thinks_ that’s how the law goes. He did play a game about it once. At least, part of a game, before it got too hard.

 

"Mmn…I don't want to go to Todai, though…but it's either that or Keidai for law in Japan, how unfortunate." Akashi heaves a sigh. "Well. It's best not to start getting my hopes up just yet." 

 

“Who says you have to go to school in Japan?” Kagami asks. “Dad won’t even work with Japanese lawyers anymore, he says everyone who’s anyone has gotten at least a graduate degree overseas.”

 

"You're forgetting how impossible it is for me to get a passport again, I see," Akashi wryly says, but adds after a moment, because Kagami makes him want to think about stupid things: "I suppose if I went ahead and _applied_ to foreign colleges next year and got accepted, that would at least be material to argue with…" 

 

“There are princesses that went to school overseas,” Kagami argues. “Don’t just listen to your dad, you’re your own man, and he’s using information that’s _way_ out of date. You’re a citizen, aren’t you?”

 

"Yes, but--this is going to sound terrible, but honestly, Taiga, Japan doesn't really pay attention to their princesses that much. They have a surplus." 

 

“So...” Kagami shrugs. “What’s stopping you from just fucking off somewhere? Seriously? What good has that damn title ever done for you? I mean, if it made you happy, that’s one thing, but it only makes you miserable. Wasn’t your dad the only thing keeping you from abdicating?”

 

"W-well--he was part of it--this is going back to me losing my estate, and I'm not interested in that, remember?" Akashi hastily says, flapping a hand. "One thing at a time. It's not like I'm trying to get another arranged marriage on the table to continue the family line or anything, I just don't want to drop my titles if I don't _have_ to." 

 

Kagami opens his mouth to argue further, but his phone buzzes, and he looks down at it with a groan. “Aw, man. Gramps says it sounds like a challenge. Fuck, he’ll probably want to do it himself. I mean, no one could do it better, but get ready to have him in your business.”

 

"…He liked Yukimaru, so he already has solid credentials, I think. Will you give him my phone number so we can connect later?" This is why he should ultimately not be in charge of an enormous financial group, estate, and everything else connected to it. 

 

At that point, there's a quiet knock on Kagami's door, and Akashi warily spares a glance towards it. "Were you expecting someone?" _Should I go hide?_ He has gotten _good_ at hiding as of late.

 

“Not that I know of?” Kagami texts over his grandpa’s number, then stands, moving to the door, thankful at least that it isn’t his dad.

 

Seeing Kuroko on the other side is definitely a surprise--though it shouldn’t have been, from that careful little knock. “Kuroko?” Kagami asks, looking instinctively around for both Aomine and the dog. “What are you doing here?”

 

Kuroko's stare is a very long one. "I should ask the same of you, Kagami-kun. You didn't tell me you were coming home for winter break." He pauses. "You got taller." 

 

“Yeah, I, uh...okay, honestly?” Kagami scratches the back of his neck. “I forgot to tell you. Sorry. Okay, but I didn’t think I’d be here for long, and Akashi was...having some issues...”

 

"Kagami-kun, you're the worst."

 

Kagami folds his arms defensively in front of himself. “I...I don’t think I’m the worst! I think I’m okay!”

 

"No. You're the worst." Kuroko sighs up at him, long-suffering. "Now that I know you're here, we should at least spend time together at least once--so long as you aren't…preoccupied. Is Akashi-kun better now?" 

 

Kagami turns to look over his shoulder. “Are you better now?”

 

Akashi lifts a hand in a hesitant wave to Kuroko. "…I have a splitting headache, but I think I'm doing all right? Hello, Kuroko." 

 

"Hello, Akashi-kun. Drink some caffeine and life will improve." Kuroko blinks back up at Kagami. "Lunch, maybe? Aomine-kun wants to see if you've gotten any better." 

 

“After being in America? Heh, I’ll wipe the floor with him. Two on two?” _Stop ignoring him, please stop, it makes me angry and uncomfortable and you’re going to_ have _to get used to him._

 

"Aomine-kun and I will crush you," Kuroko says with a formal, challenge-accepted sort of bow. "It's a date. I look forward to it, Kagami-kun." 

 

Kagami’s face breaks into a relieved smile, and he grabs Kuroko close in a tight squeeze of a hug, hearing bones creak. “Thanks. It’s...it’s really good to see you, man.”

 

"Kagami-kun," Kuroko wheezes into his shoulder, attempting to tap out and failing. "It's very good to see you, too, but your American strength is too great and I'm going to die." 

 

Kagami releases him, patting him on the back with a sound like a drum. “Sorry. Are you two doing okay? Everything with his dad...?”

 

Kuroko nearly falls over, swaying as he rights himself and draws in a full breath. "…He's been mostly living with my family," he answers carefully. "Which has been…fine." 

 

"Hello, is this Kagami Saiga? This is Akashi Seijuurou, it's a pleasure to talk to you again--" 

 

Kuroko cranes his neck, catching a glimpse of Akashi striding off into Kagami's bedroom with the phone pressed to his ear. "Is he asking your family for permission to marry you?"

 

“Yeah, my grandpa’s giving me away like a prize hog,” Kagami says dryly. “Nah, my grandpa is helping him with some stuff for his estate. Heh, I should ask him to help dad sell this place, it’s not like anyone’s using...” He trails off, furrowing his brow. “Hey. No one’s using this place. Aomine could stay here for a while.”

 

"Aomine-kun is a slob, you'll regret suggesting that." Kuroko sighs, lightly shaking his head. "Thank you very much for the offer, but it's fine. It isn't as if my family doesn't _know_ by now." 

 

“Well, yeah, but your family’s place is tiny,” Kagami points out. “Move in with him. You’ve got like, another year of school left, right? Keep him clean, and I’ll just tell my dad I got a tenant for the place that’s gonna keep it up.”

 

Kuroko's stare is a skeptical one. "…is your father going to stop by and find out that the tenant is a pair of homos?" 

 

Kagami grimaces. “He wishes. Nah, Alisha has him kind of...tethered. His new wife. She’s convinced that if he goes on a ‘business trip’ more than an hour away, he’s gonna cheat on her, so even if he does come to Tokyo, he has to show her the receipt for a capsule hotel. Fucking nutcase.”

 

"She sounds extremely…pleasant." Kuroko shuts his eyes briefly, then nods. "I'll talk to him about it. I really do appreciate the offer, Kagami-kun. It means a lot to me. I just…hm. How to phrase." He tilts his head. "Are we going to be intruding on your very convenient Tokyo love nest?" 

 

Kagami’s face flushes. “It’s not like we couldn’t get a hotel,” he mutters. “And...I mean, his dad died, I guess now there’s a house in Kyoto--or hell, probably one in Tokyo, too. I mean, we can afford to spread the luck, you know?” Talking about money is awkward.

 

Kuroko's eyebrows climb. "Are you coming back to Japan?" 

 

Kagami shrugs. “At some point, I guess. I....” He grimaces, looking around, and lowers his voice. “Everyone I care about is here, you know?”

 

"…Kagami-kun, you were scouted. Is that really something you can give up that easily?" Kuroko quietly sighs. "It's not my place to ask that, probably. But I know, with Aomine-kun…he really, really wants to go pro." 

 

“I’m not giving it up. I’m not giving _anything_ up. I’ve got colleges that’ll take me even if I defer for a year. God, it would be _nice_ if people had some faith in me,” he says with a sigh. “If I want to go pro, I can go. I’m good enough. That’s what the last semester taught me. So I don’t have to throw everything away to grab at my one chance, because...well, it’s not my one chance.”

 

"I have faith in you, Kagami-kun. I also have faith that you want to be a househusband and wear that apron and cook for Akashi-kun all day."

 

Kagami grabs Kuroko’s face, forcing him backward. “Okay, thanks for coming, see you!” He says cheerfully, and shuts the door in his face.

 

"You know I'm right, Kagami-kuuuun--" is the muffled retort from beyond the door.

 

"Ah, is Kuroko already gone?" Akashi mildly asks as he steps out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind himself. "I'm surprised Aomine wasn't with him…" 

 

“You really want to talk to either of those guys?” Kagami asks, leaning back against the door. “How’d it go with Gramps?”

 

"I rarely want to talk to anyone, but it's only polite to ask," Akashi airily replies. "Kagami-san…is very eager to work for me." It's very hard to keep his face impassive, and not start smiling, but he _does_ try. "Apparently, he's been extremely bored, and that adventure you pulled him along to retrieve Yukimaru stuck with him." 

 

“Yeah, he’s been telling me how lucky I was to have a friend like you,” Kagami says with a sigh. “How he would have been lucky to have a pretty friend like you when he was my age. Not all that sure what he means by that.”

 

Akashi blinks hard at that, and quickly looks away before his face can start to color. "I really just need to kiss you in public and cause a scandal already." 

 

Kagami props up his feet on the coffee table. “I hear Shibuya’s nice around this time of year. Ten minute ride on the JR line.”

 

"It's as cold as every other part of Tokyo, what are you--" Pause. Process. Akashi can't even bring himself to glower at him. "Never mind, I caught up. I mean, I suppose in the aftermath of my father's death, no one would really think anything of me 'acting out' like that…" 

 

“Then we should wait. Until no one thinks it’s because of that.” Kagami reaches out, taking Akashi’s hand and tracing gentle patterns over it with his fingertips. “If you want. I don’t really care too much either way, honestly.”

 

 _You were actually serious?_ Right, things to _not_ say out loud that are probably reflected in his expression, anyway. Akashi swallows, briefly glancing away before he simply moves to collapse into Kagami's lap instead. "Not right now," he says, his voice muffled into the side of Kagami's neck, "but know that also right now, your offer was very much appreciated…and accepted." 

 

Kagami turns his head, pressing a kiss to the top of Akashi’s hair. “I’m glad you didn’t cut it this time,” he murmurs. “And not just because Midorima wouldn’t let you have scissors.”

 

"Never, ever let me have a haircut like that again. I looked terrible. I need bangs to function." 

 

“You functioned just fine.” Kagami pauses. “But you look much cuter with them.”

 

"That's what I'm talking about. That's real functionality." 

 


	19. Chapter 19

_About 7 Months Later_

 

“So once the butter is melted completely, you add the rice, and you move it around with your spatula until it’s all golden-brown and toasted, see?”

 

The kitchen is a little cramped, strewn with boxes of books and clothes and riding gear, but Kagami prefers that to cold emptiness any day. Besides, now that he’s living with someone who has Akashi’s desire for cleanliness, their new apartment won’t stay cluttered for long.

 

And finally, they have a little time, with both of them out of a wearying day of school. Kagami had come home to find Akashi’s eyes blazing with hunger, and had insisted that there was _no food at all_ , when Kagami had obviously stocked the pantry the night before.

 

So, Rice-a-roni lessons.

 

"I don't know who told you this was rice, but it absolutely _isn't_." 

 

Spatula in hand, Akashi glowers down at the 'rice' in question, and then back up at Kagami as it sizzles--slowly, too slowly, if he's going to be technical about it. "Who owns the field that this so-called rice came from? They should have to pay extra land taxes in punishment."

 

Americans, Akashi has come to realize, have a somewhat substandard view of food on a daily basis. No matter how good of a cook Kagami may be, he still _settles_ …and even if junk food is becoming more and more of a staple in Akashi's diet on a daily basis, the idea of rice turning into some strange, cheesy thing is almost unforgivable. 

 

Almost. _Almost_.

 

“It’s not _rice_ ,” Kagami says, using the Japanese word for rice on purpose, then switching to English. “It’s _Rice-a-roni_. Totally different. I think it has pasta in it or something. Huh, are you really only supposed to use a quarter-cup of water? Making just one box is _wild_.”

 

"Why would you make more than one box of this monstrosity? This is verging on sacrilege." It's starting to turn kind of golden brown, _apparently_ , and Akashi tentatively pokes and stirs at it. "Rice is not supposed to turn that color." 

 

“It’s not rice. That’s the roni part. It’s--see the little rice bits? That’s the rice. Here, now we’re going to add the cheese sauce and water, go on.”

 

"You're calling it 'roni' as if that means something," Akashi mutters underneath his breath, doing as he's instructed even if he doesn't like it one bit. At least the cheese looks pretty standard, but he's been informed that Japanese cheese is not exactly top notch. 

 

“Sure it means something. It means it isn’t off-brand. Okay, now we’re going to stir.” The mixture slowly changes colors as Kagami watches in satisfaction. “Just like that. Now we just stir it every few minutes. This is where I’d add chicken or whatever, too. Not more cheese, I add that later.”

 

"This just feels wrong." Akashi thinks that's a fairly valid assessment, considering the cheesy rice assortment that is forming before his eyes. "I'm not going to deny that it smells good or that this seems like the kind of thing you have cravings for at midnight on a Thursday or something ridiculous like that, but it still feels wrong. It's like the kind of thing that Shintarou would do to his rice. Gleefully, while staring into the eyes of a field owner."

 

“I’m not even sure this rice comes from a field,” Kagami says honestly. “I mean, I’ve never seen one over here.”

 

Akashi stares at him. "What good is America, then?" 

 

Kagami looks back, completely serious. “We pay less than a third of our income in taxes.”

 

"Stop recycling class material. That makes for poor arguments to defend the 'roni.'"

 

“Fine. Basketball is better here. You can’t fight that.”

 

"You're not _wrong_ ," Akashi hedges. "But I will eventually need a more consistent diet of tofu to properly survive. This _is_ the west coast, I'll import it if you don't have time to make it." 

 

“I have time to make it, don’t worry. I just wasn’t expecting you to eat so much, so fast. I try to make about a quarter of whatever I’d make for myself, for you, but I guess you’ve leveled up.” Kagami ruffles Akashi’s hair, grinning. “Good job.”

 

Akashi sticks his tongue out. "It only applies to tofu. _Your_ tofu. The more you know." He gives the rice and _roni_ concoction a stir before he turns away, long enough to stretch up on tiptoe and steal a kiss. "For the record--I'm very glad I came to live here with you," he says, "even if your universities are full of idiots, your rice has 'roni' in it, and no one thinks I can dunk because I am under 182 cent--um, under six feet tall."

 

“They only think that for a couple minutes,” Kagami points out, stirring the rice-a-roni, “until you dunk on top of their heads.” Then he slings both arms around Akashi’s waist, easily lifting him from the ground to take a longer kiss, tasting his lips. “Don’t let the roni burn.”

 

Akashi contently dangles there, making a half-hearted attempt to grab for the spatula again. "You're the one stopping me from taking care of the roni properly now." 

 

“And you don’t care.” Kagami grabs his ass and squeezes with a slow, lazy grin. “But now you can feed yourself, and I’m reminding you about what’s good about America.”

 

"If America had conbinis, I'd be able to feed myself more than adequately." Akashi half-heartedly squirms to get away. "Put me down, I'm ready to ingest this strange cheese thing." 

 

“Have a seat,” Kagami says, gesturing to their ad hoc table, then plating up what looks to him like woefully inadequate servings, setting them in front of Akashi and himself. “Fork, or spoon?” he asks, amused, knowing the answer will be offended.

 

Akashi feels like stomping his foot. "Isn't this supposed to be rice? Of sorts? Why would you ever eat rice with a fork or a spoon unless it's with curry?"

 

Kagami grabs a couple of forks, handing one over. “In America, there’s only Indian curry, and you eat that with naan bread.”

 

"I'm going to take over this country one day," Akashi solemnly says, warily taking a fork, "and fill it with good Japanese food. Well, whatever, thank you for the meal." 

 

One bite in, and--"I'm actually furious. This has no right to be this good." 

 

Kagami laughs, a sudden surge of affection hitting him when he looks at Akashi’s pleased, pouting face. “Yeah. It’s a lot better than I ever thought it could be.” _A lot of things are._


End file.
